Moments Missed
by Montreat11
Summary: Why does she feel like there is something strange going on in Storybrooke, and why does she feel like she's the only one who doesn't know? Part of the Moments Series. This is the companion to Moments Seen and Unseen, it contains all of Lacey's moments, those that we saw and those we didn't, for the three days that she was in Storybrooke. R/R. Chapters going up now are from ep2x20.
1. Having A Past

_Suddenly, from out of nowhere, her headache seemed to peek…and her mind began to swim with a hazy feeling again. _

A split second later the headache was gone…but something else had returned.

She could remember again.

She gaped at the realization, almost wanting not to believe it. But it was true. It was all there, like it had never left. She remembered.

She could remember her childhood. She remembered growing up in Australia and just how much she had loved that country. She remembered how much she had loved swimming in the ocean and spending her days on endless stretches of sand. She'd even tried surfing once! She'd loved that ocean so much that she used to leave her window open even on the coldest nights so that she could hear it crash against the beach and smell the salt in the air.

She could remember school, too. Even though it gave her the exact opposite feeling of the ocean. She'd hated school and everything that went with it: homework, studying, classes. There were only a few subjects that she had really taken an interest in, and the rest she was bored with. But she'd gone, not because it was expected of her but because she found she could have fun even there. She had loved her friends, loved staying long after the last bell rang just to talk with them about boys and dances. She remembered late night trips to the mall and early trips to markets just to see what kind of clothes she could find for cheap.

Clothes!

She remembered clothes! She remembered how she'd poured over fashion magazines and watched all the fashion shows she could! She could remember sneaking into a movie set once just to get a taste of how designing worked and what went into the trade. That was the moment that she decided that she was going to be a designer someday. Her father had never thought much of her ambition but her mother had indulged it, taken her to a fashion week once and given her a sewing machine for her seventh birthday. She'd bought her a sketchbook and colored pencils for her twelfth. And on their last Christmas together she could remember getting silk fabric, lace, and a tape measure. It was the greatest honor she'd ever had. Fifteen years old, and it was her that designed that little black dress her mother wore when she and her father went out on their date that Valentine's Day. She could remember how proud she'd been when her friends wanted her to make them something for dances and dates. Her mother had joked with her that she had a brand name built right into her name…but she took it seriously.

She had a dream, she could remember it clearly again. All she wanted from that moment on was to have one of those A-list actresses interviewed on the red carpet respond "I'm wearing LaceyLace tonight!" It was perfect, her life, her future, everything was set for her from that moment on. She could remember being a happy.

And she could remember when it all changed.

Her mother had loved the ocean just as much as she did. Her father always said that it was her love of it that made him fall in love with her. They often took trips to the shore even as she got older. She and her father might not have gotten along well on their own, but whenever the three of them were together, they were happy. So when her parents suggested they go to the beach on a late afternoon in July she had jumped at the opportunity, not realizing the saddened look on her their faces.

Her mother had been exhausted for months, falling asleep here and there, tossing and turning, no matter how tired she was never truly resting. Her face had slowly begun to sink in, dark circles had appeared under her eyes, and the color had drained from her cheeks. She felt constantly dizzy, her headaches were endless, but it was when her speech began to slur and she started mixing up her words that they paniced. She could remember how they'd sat her down that afternoon and told her about the trip to the doctor as the tide came in. She'd stubbornly watched the surf as she listened to her mother's courageous and optimistic words. But she just couldn't bear to face her, for her to see the tears in her eyes. Her mother was being brave, why couldn't she be?

But bravery didn't matter.

Bravery wouldn't listen.

Bravery couldn't cure her mother.

They spent three more months together, but by the time Christmas came around the next year, she'd exchanged her happy colors for somber black. Her friends stayed in the wake of the loss, but eventually faded into the background. They just didn't know what to say to her. In the months that followed, she'd turned to the only thing she knew, the only thing that could make her happy…clothes. She worked day and night: sketching, sewing, creating, trying to find some meaning in the life her mother had taken with her. That had been when the delicate relationship she and her father had maintained began to unravel.

They'd never gotten along well, even when her mother was alive. She'd always been the mediator between the two of them. She suspected that he'd always wanted a boy, a son instead of a daughter, someone to run the family business when he was gone. She figured that had more to do with why he didn't like the fashion than anything. When she showed no interest in his interests, in his business, he'd simply lost interest in her. To make matters worse, clothes had always been something she and her mother had done together. The more she talked about designing, the more she worked at it, and received magazines, and looked into schools, the more and more he was reminded of her mother. It took her years, but slowly the clothes gave her a reason to come back to life, to seek out her friends, to live again. And the more she did the more and more depressed her father got. Then, one night, the summer before her senior year of high school, he'd announced to her over dinner that they were moving.

As he said the words, she suddenly found herself feeling those same things that she'd felt when her mother had died. Empty. Numb. Nothing. He couldn't stand to be here, he explained. He couldn't live in their house. He couldn't work. He couldn't go anywhere. The entire nation seemed to remind him of her and he told her that if he didn't leave soon, he didn't think he'd ever survive the blow. He was a man haunted and couldn't move on like she was. But he didn't understand. It hadn't been easy for her either, she'd had to claw her way out of her grief climbing hand over hand, inch by inch, to get back to the fraction of the happy person she had been. He hadn't even tried! And now he was going to take the little life she'd formed in the wake of the disaster down with him! No, she couldn't let him do that!

She'd begged. She'd cried. She'd tried to compromise: couldn't they stay until high school was done, couldn't she live with a friend for a year, couldn't she live on her own before she went away to study fashion design? He simply shook his head. He'd lost one family member, he couldn't bear to lose another. But he was wrong about that. The life that she'd been working hard to put back together was the only thing keeping her alive! The day he'd forced her on that plane and dragged her out into the middle of nowhere, Storybrooke, Maine, United States of America…he'd lost her already.

He'd killed her spirit.

Her father had gotten a new job by restarting his business in the small town. She finished high school without a friend in the world. When she started looking into American design schools, he insisted he'd never pay for anything like that, still clinging to the hope that she'd give up and do something a little more secure, responsible, and noble with her life, at least by his standards. So, she'd gone to work in a local clothing store, Modern Fashions, to earn money to pay for school herself. When he figured out her plan, he shoved a brochure for the local community college in her hand and requested that she begin to pay rent, diminishing the little money she made every month. He was so afraid of losing her that he clung to her and it was suffocating. He could see how much she longed for her own life and he sought to correct it by keeping her chained. And she just couldn't take it.

It was ok though, she'd found freedom in other ways. When her mother had been around she'd been the vision of a perfect daughter, now she found that rebellion had its merits. If he wouldn't willingly give her up, she wondered if she could force him to. It had been by accident, she'd worn a black dress two days in a row and he'd commented on why she couldn't wear something brighter. She'd made it her goal to wear only dark colors from that moment on. He set times for them to meet for dinner and was furious when she was late or didn't show up at all. Not truly caring about work she stayed out later and later. The first time he'd screamed at her for staying out without bothering to even call, she'd screamed right back that she wasn't a child and he couldn't control her life! That didn't seem to stop him from trying though.

On her twenty-first birthday she'd gone to the local bar and made friends with the bartender. The first time Sheriff Graham had pulled her over for drunk driving he'd "done her a favor" and drove her home without writing her up. He'd exploded and upped her rent.

After that, she didn't need to come home drunk to irritate him. She just didn't have to come home. All she had to do was spend time with certain people, powerful people, that the town respected out of fear and never harmed. She wouldn't say that they were ever her friends, she never had any of their numbers or visited them at the end of the night, but she found that if others knew she was looking for a good time, for a party, they were happy to oblige, even in the little town of Storybrooke. And then there was the collection of men's jackets that she kept in her closet from coming home in the early hours of the morning, hair untidy, make-up smeared, smelling of alcohol, and sex.

He began to see that he was losing control over his daughter, but instead of dealing with it, it only made him angrier and angrier. She didn't care. He'd made a selfish choice once that had made her angry. She'd had to deal with it, and she was. Therefore, it was only fair that she could make selfish choices for herself and if he didn't like it, if he didn't like how she dressed or spent her time, he had to deal with that himself. It wasn't what was best for her, as he'd argued time and time again. What was best for her was fashion school, to go after her dreams, to live the life he'd stolen from her! But he just couldn't see that! He refused to. He wouldn't even give her a fair shot at trying and failing, just kept putting up road block after road block. He thought that he could choose her destiny for her, but it just didn't work that way. And so the tension grew and grew.

Until that night.

She'd come home from the Rabbit Hole, earlier than expected, irritated because the person she'd spent the majority of her time with that night hadn't invited her back to his place, she'd had no choice but to go home. He was sitting in front of the television, gazing at it without really seeing it. He made a rude comment as she walked in about her being home for once. But two could play at that game. She responded by making one of her own about not getting lucky, fighting fire with fire. He snapped. He yelled and screamed at her.

Why couldn't she just be a woman that her mother would have been proud of? Why did she have to act this way? What had he done to deserve this from her?!

She screamed right back.

Why did he have to take her away from what she knew? Why couldn't he have let her stay in her home? Why did he have to be so selfish? Couldn't he see that he was holding her back?!

Fashion was no career for a daughter of his!

And a job at clothing store was? Doing something that didn't make her happy was what she was supposed to do for the rest of her life?

What was so terrible about that?! Was she really happy the way she was? Was she really happy with what she'd become?! "You are an adult, Lacey. No one is forcing you to be here, if you want to go then go!" He screamed pointing at the door. "But don't expect me to be there to pick up the pieces when you crash and burn!"

And so, for the first time in years, since they'd moved to this God awful place, she did as she was told.

The look on his face as she'd moved around him told her that he really hadn't expected the confrontation to end with her taking him up on his offer and leaving so abruptly. But with a final "fine! I'll write to you from New York!" she found herself out alone in the chilly night, just walking. She should have gone to the Rabbit Hole again, no doubt she could have easily found someone to spend the night with, but her father's words echoed in her mind and drove her in the other direction. "No one decides my fate but me," she muttered over and over.

Why hadn't she left before now? There had been nothing holding her here, nothing that bound her to Storybrooke. She was just someone who rang women up at the register and occasionally got to give them advice on what to wear, surely she could hold that kind of job in another town! She could leave, she could start a new life outside of this dull place. Surely it would be easier there than it had been here living under his roof!

She made her way out to the long black lonesome road. Part of her wondered if her father would come for her, insist she get in the car and come back home, that they could figure this out, the way they used to, the way they had when they'd been a family, and not just people bound to each other by blood. But she knew, somehow, this fight had been different from the others. They'd both said terrible things to each other. Worse. They'd both spoken terrible truths to the others.

Was she happy this way? Or had she simply done such a good job convincing her father that this was who she really was that she'd fallen for it too? She did her best to convince herself that she was happy, that this was who she really was and she liked it. She tried to tell herself that she'd grown since her mother died, that she'd recovered, and matured. She'd discovered herself! She was a grown woman, as her father had pointed out, why shouldn't she be allowed to act like it.

But the truth was, deep down, she felt like something was missing. She'd felt it since her mother had died. She'd done her best to create happiness, but at the heart of the issue she still wished that none of this had ever happened, that her mother had lived, that her best friend, the only person who had ever really supported and taken care of her, was still around. She'd be different if she hadn't. She had nothing to prove that belief, but she just knew, if she had that one piece of her that was missing, she'd be happy again.

Suddenly she saw lights cast shadows on the trees in front of her. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe her father was coming for her. Maybe they hadn't finished their fight after all, or maybe he'd come to grovel. It was too late. She couldn't go back, not even if he begged. The lights became brighter and she took a deep breath, preparing to face whoever might have been lurking behind her. If it was him, he'd come just in time, the town line was only a step away.

* * *

**Hey ya'll! If you are readers of the Moments Series, welcome back! If you are a Lacey fan or just checking out the story, howdy! This will be Lacey's story as promised. This chapter is more of an introduction than anything, but just like Seen and Unseen and Known and Unknown this fiction will feature all of the scenes that Lacey was featured in and everything that happened in between. I did my best with her and I hope you'll enjoy it. I won't post everyday like I did in the Summer, but I will post new chapters on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday (with breaks during the holidays) and get it all up before the series comes back in March. I hope you enjoy the story, please review if you like it! Happy reading!**


	2. Prison Break

"Wait!" she exclaimed looking back up at the dark haired woman. Regina, her name was Regina, and she'd been the town Mayor for as long as she could remember! She could remember! She turned her attention back to the matchbox in her hand. "I, I know what this is!" It came from her favorite bar, The Rabbit Hole, the only decent place to get a drink in this small town! But that didn't matter, what was important to her was that she knew the place! She was so happy she could have burst into song.

"I think I remember who I am," she said with an excited burst of laughter as she glanced at Regina. No, it wasn't a guess, she knew. It was all there. Her entire life was crystal clear again, the blank void of her life finally filling in, right up until the incident at the town line. Her memory of exactly what happened on that road was suddenly foggy as she stared at the matchbox, frankly so was everything that had happened after that, while she'd been here. Was that due to her injury? The staff told her that she'd been involved in a car crash, a car had hit her and she'd smacked her head against the pavement, losing her memories. A car. That must have been the light that she'd seen coming from behind her. Which meant what she thought she'd seen, Mr. Gold, the fire, the wound to her shoulder, none of that was true then! They really had been hallucinations! To think that she actually had thought she'd seen magic!

Regina shook her head and gave her a smile that she could tell wasn't genuine, despite the miracle she'd just witnessed. She honestly had no idea why the Mayor had come, why she was pretending to be so happy for her when the only interaction she'd ever had with the woman was to vote for her in her first legal election. But, nevertheless, she was lucky she had come! What would have happened to her if she had just ignored the matchbox? If she'd never found it, she'd still be that mindless girl, waiting in her bed for…Mr. Gold!

As if she sensed her thoughts Regina's sneer seemed to peak, "Well I'm sure Mr. Gold will be thrilled."

She had sleepy images of Mr. Gold, Ruby, and even Greg Mendell coming to see her. Their visits seemed strange to her, she didn't know any of them! She was certain of that, so why had they come for her. Why would they...then she remembered. They didn't know her either, they only thought they did. It wasn't her they'd been looking for, it had been someone else, a women named Belle. How strange? She was certain she knew most people here in town, that was the consequence of living in a small town. But in all her life she was positive she'd never met anyone named Belle. And she was sure she would remember if she had, since the only way to explain why they'd all thought she was Belle was if she looked like the woman in some way. Or, judging from the number of people who thought she was Belle, if she strongly resembled her. But it was a small town, how she'd lived day to day without meeting or even hearing about the woman was beyond her. They must really have been polar opposites and run with vastly different crowds in order for that to happen.

She shook her head. Who she looked like or how the mix up had occurred didn't matter, now. She needed to focus. The last thing she wanted was any more visits, which, if her memory since she got here was to be trusted, was going to happen soon. Mr. Gold, he was going to come back for her. It would be simple, all she had to do was tell him that she'd gotten her memories back and didn't need his hospitality any more. It should have been easy, but her stomach seemed to curl with guilt at the thought.

He'd looked so hopeful when she'd told him that she was starting to accept the fact that she might have known him. Obviously that had been a tragic mistake. But she couldn't blame herself for that mistake, he'd been very convincing. But it was over now. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. It was all just a simple misunderstanding. Still, she didn't know if she had the strength or the courage right now to let the poor man down yet again. She wasn't sure how he'd found her, but it was clear that it wasn't just an act, he really believed she was Belle, truly believed he knew her and she knew him. Well, of course she knew him, or more accurately knew of him, everyone in town did. Her father had been paying rent to the man since they'd first arrived in Storybrooke, but she'd never actually met him before this had happened.

He was different than people had described. She'd always had this irrational fear of the man because people talked about him like he was the worst person in town, a real life villain. He was mean, unforgiving, and everyone was afraid of him! So why had he been the exact opposite toward her? Toward Belle? He'd spent the most time with her since she'd gotten here, couldn't he tell the difference between her and this Belle! No, apparently not. And she didn't think she could stand to break his heart when she told him that she wouldn't go with him. She wasn't sure why she cared so much, frankly, he wasn't her problem. She wasn't responsible for his mental health or his feelings. It had been nice of him to pay for the room, but at the end of the day he thought he was paying for Belle's room and she wasn't her!

And fortunately she didn't have to break the news to him. The easiest thing to do was to get out of here, quickly as she could. Maybe then she'd never have to see Mr. Gold again. He'd figure out that she realized who she was, he'd realize she wasn't Belle, and they could both get back to their lives as if this incident had never occurred, which was what she was looking forward to the most right now. She needed a plan, she had to get out of here, and she had to do it before Mr. Gold could return.

She scrambled out of bed and ran her fingers through her hair, which definitely needed a good wash and condition. Not to mention her clothes, if they could even be called that. She was never going to get out of this place looking like a mindless frump. No, she had to think this through, before she could go anywhere she needed to change, to wear something else. But where could she find new clothes in a hospital?

A locker room. Yes! That was it! Surely a hospital had a locker room.

"Can I help you dear?" a voice cried out as she peered out the doorway to see if there was anyone around to catch her. Regina. She'd nearly forgotten the Mayor still standing with her in the room.

"Uh," she sighed as she looked the Mayor over and thought about her offer. It would be nice to have the Mayor on her side. But why? She was fine on her own. She had nothing, but she'd had nothing when her mother died too and she'd managed to put herself back together without anyone's help. Sure, help would be nice, but she just didn't think she needed it. She could do this by herself. And just think how it would look when she got the big magazine interviews and they found out she'd gone from an amnesic victim to a strong independent designer all on her own. Damn, that practically wrote itself.

"No," she responded to the mayor, trying to at least be polite to the woman. She was the Mayor, after all. She might not want her help but that didn't mean she wanted to be on her bad side either. "Thank you for all you've done, but I'll be fine on my own from here." She offered her a small smile, then without another word, turned and walked out the door, leaving Regina behind in the empty room.

She wrapped the light jacket around her hospital attire, hoping that the passing staff would simply think she was a friend of a patient that had thrown on her pajamas in the middle of the night during an emergency. She got a few strange looks but no one stopped her, or yelled for her. She wandered for a few minutes just trying to think through her next steps, trying to figure out a plan of some kind, and then, like fate had finally chosen to intervene on her behalf, she found exactly what she needed. Two young nurses, they were wearing uniforms but they both had big bags and purses slung over their shoulders and were heading away from the exit. They'd just arrived, and they'd need to put those bags somewhere while they worked.

She followed them at a distance, catching only every other word of their conversation about some baby shower they were excited to go to after they got off work. Which, in her opinion, told her all she needed to know about what was in the bags: clothes. She just hoped they had some sense of style that wasn't so "mom-next-door". The women led her right to a locker room, just as she'd hoped. She followed, took note of the place they were stashing their belongings and went into a bathroom stall. She pressed her ear to the door and listened as they chatted for a few more moments before one of them made a comment like "let's get this over with" and she heard the door shut behind them. She crept out of the small bathroom and glanced around. It was empty, they wouldn't be back for hours, it was perfect.

She quickly opened one of the lockers and tore apart the bags. The first was disappointing: slacks and a sweater was all the bag had to offer. The pants would fit, the sweater was too baggy for her tastes but would also fit, and at least it wasn't a hospital gown. She reminded herself that she just needed them to get out of the building, then she could find something different. She set the pants and sweater aside and went through the second locker. Jackpot! The clothes weren't much better than the first. But it didn't matter, they wouldn't fit her if they had been better, they were too small, but the nurse had brought some killer stilettos that would fit her! And, at the bottom of the locker, there sat small travel bottles of generic shampoo, conditioner, and fragrant soap.

She didn't have long. She figured she had about thirty minutes before they realized she was missing and shut the hospital down to find her. Forty-five minutes if she was lucky, but she didn't want to take that chance. Across the tiled room there was a single shower stall, there was nothing to dry her hair with but beggars could be choosy and at least it was something.

She collected her bounty, shut the lockers, and started the warm water. She showered quickly, just because she thought she had time didn't mean that anything was certain…at any moment they could come in and catch her. Although the prospect of being caught would usually have made it more fun, in this case, she just wanted out of this damn hospital, and if she got caught that would become a lot more complicated. So, without savoring the feeling of being herself again, she washed her hair and finger combed it so that it would dry faster. She pulled on the pants and sweater, wishing she had better underwear, then buckled the shoes, thank God they were at least acceptable.

She returned the toiletries to the woman's locker, no point in taking them with her. As a second thought she noticed the woman's purse sitting there. She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity finally got the best of her. There wasn't much, only forty-two dollars in cash. She'd never taken money before, not from anyones wallet, except maybe her father. She'd taken clothes, perfume, even make up and some essentials a couple of times she was in dire need but cash from a strangers wallet! Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she stared at the bills in her hand. It would be a whole new level of bad behavior if she took this money, but then again it wasn't as if she had options…or the time to think through them!

An announcement went out over the PA system. It was nothing, but it surprised her enough to make her jump and remind her of the tense situation at hand. She really didn't have time to have a moral debate in her head over what to do with the money. That made the answer real easy for her then: take it. The hospital surely had insurance for petty theft like this, they would refund the woman, and it wasn't as if they didn't owe her after everything she'd been through since she got here.

She glanced at the clock. Based on the thirty minute time frame she'd given herself, she had five minutes left. She slipped the cash into the small pocket in the slacks then left the locker room. As casually as possible, she followed the signs for the exits, hoping no one would recognize her. Her heart pounded in anticipation when she finally spotted the glass doors. Without a hint of regret, she pushed them open, then, finally, after weeks of wishing for freedom, she could smell the outside world!


	3. The Return of Lacey

She was out of the hospital. Great. Wonderful!

Now what?

First, she obviously needed to get as far away as possible, and fast so that they wouldn't catch her. And so without looking too conspicuous she simply walked away from the building, not so quickly she would attract attention, but she certainly didn't take a leisurely stoll either. Her prison break could be considered mission accomplished. She'd done that much. Now all she needed was money, a ride out of this lousy excuse for a town, go to New York City, design some clothes, become rich and famous, and someday her father would see her on a magazine cover and feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. Then he'd realize how wrong he'd been about her. He'd see she was more than he always thought. Then he'd regret his lack of support.

But that dream was still a long way off. As easy as it all sounded, she wasn't some headstrong ignorant girl, she knew that it was going to take a lot more planning and money to make it all fall into place. And she had a lot more immediate needs right now than just showing up her father. She had to take things one step at a time. And first step was getting out of this hideous oversized sweater. The pants and shoes were one thing, but she needed something a little more her, and frankly she would like to have some underwear that could actually pass in society for underwear. She had a closet chock full of clothes at her father's house. He might be at work now, and she might be able to break in and grab some things…but she would prefer to let him think that she had left town and not come looking for her. She could go to the store she'd worked at, but while she had been friendly with her co-workers she knew that she had no true friends there. They might tell her father she was still in town, they might not, but she didn't want to risk it.

She only had forty-two dollars to her name and she didn't want to spend it unless she had to. Fortunately, pinching money from a wallet might have given her pause, but taking clothes, now that was something she'd been doing so long that she was an expert at it. It was one of those things she'd learned by hanging out with the "wrong crowd" her father had hated so much. But what did the man expect! It wasn't as if he was giving her money for clothes or fabric and she needed something to work on when they'd moved here! She'd learned quickly from others how to take the little things without anyone noticing: make-up, fake jewelry, the little items stores kept at the counter. And when she started working at a clothing store, learning their habits, flaws and all, well, it had only served to improve her skills. And at this point, she really didn't feel any guilt doing it. Especially from the small town shops. She was desperate and it wasn't as though she was hurting anyone at the end of the day. Besides, chances were by the time they figured out something was missing, it was weeks later. If they weren't willing to invest in better security then it was just as much their fault for the thief.

Mind made up, she set out for town, checking around corners as she made her way toward the clothing shops she had in mind, hoping her father wouldn't appear out of thin air to drag her home kicking and screaming. The first stop she made was a lingerie store which, while it wasn't busy, was the perfect place for her purposes. She wasn't going to get away for free, but her skill would get her one extreme discount. She picked up some black lace panties, then stuffed one of the on sale bras into her pocket. She paid for the panties then asked the lady if she wouldn't mind if she used the dressing room and looked for some other items. The mention of a surprise for a boyfriend and the woman just smiled and nodded as she turned a brilliant shade of red. She couldn't believe it, the woman had actually blushed! She was working at an lingerie store for heavens sake, she really should get a hold on that particular reaction.

The underwear was ten bucks, but it was a small price to pay for the bonus she would be awarded when she walked out. When the attendants back was turned she happened to see a pair of earrings and a fashionable bracelet up at the register, without thinking she picked them up and hid them in the palm of her hand before the woman turned back with a receipt, and wished her luck in her endeavors.

She meandered through the store picking up a bunch of bras in her size before retiring to the dressing room, where the kind but gullible girl handed her a card with the number six written on it. She simply went into the dressing room picked out the black bra that matched best with the panties she'd chosen then pulled the sale bra she'd pick up out of her pocket and fitted it on the hanger. According to the card, she'd taken six items in, and she would return six items, just not the six items they'd planned on. And she'd gotten the extra accessories out of it. This was so easy it was laughable. She hooked the earrings through her lobes and pulled the bracelet on. Overworked and underpaid, she knew the type well, they'd never see the ruse she'd just managed until the next time they did inventory.

Next stop was to do something about this sweater! Finding a store for that wasn't hard. And, just her luck, the store was actually crowded so she didn't have to worry about buying something first. If she played her cards right then she would get out of this situation without spending a dime! She picked out a few shirts, settling on a backless, sleeveless, blue one in particular. It wasn't the best thing in the world, it wasn't as good as what she would have designed, or as stylish as what they were wearing in Hollywood right now, but considering the position she was in, it would comfortable enough. And at least it was something closer to what she might wear. She threw a couple of sweaters and more conservative ones into her bundle. She had too. She couldn't very well leave them five decent shirts and one baggy sweater. That would get her in trouble if the attendant could play "one of these things is not like the other".

She followed the same process before, taking the six items into the busy dressing room, thankfully the attendant barely looked at her. She found the blue shirt she'd initially been drawn to. No, it wouldn't have been her first choice if she was shopping, but then again she wasn't exactly shopping. Considering that, it had potential. She put it on and buttoned it up before glancing in the mirror. Damn, she'd need a different bra. The lacey edges peeked out from under the shirt and the backless part, what had initially drawn her to the piece, the damn bra cut a line right across it. She looked through the other shirts she'd picked out but she didn't like any of them nearly as much as this one, even with the bits of lace visible.

Screw it! What the hell was so unmentionable about unmentionables anyway? Everyone knew that they were there! And if it was going to be shown at least she'd done a good job at pinching something halfway decent. It was the perfect middle ground, sexy and yet, not slutty. It wasn't perfect, but it would get her through the day. She looked herself up and down in the mirror, before finding another little gem at her feet. A hair tie! It wasn't new, but her hair was almost dry and it was better than nothing. She pulled her hair out of her face and was happy to see that the image that met her in the mirror was finally one that she recognized. She was herself again.

Well…almost. Something was still missing.

She looked herself over again and then landed on the missing element. She could use a bit of make-up. And, frankly, what she really needed right about now was a drink! That was it! That was exactly what was missing from this picture. And she knew precisely what to do and where to go for those things.

She returned the hangers and number to the lady up front, who didn't notice the switch she'd made. She checked the time and smiled. The Rabbit Hole would be open. They always closed for a couple of hours just before the sun rose for cleaning, but they usually reopened soon afterwards. No one but the drunks who had serious problems with alcohol and nowhere to go would be there at this time. But then again, she didn't exactly have anywhere to go either. She had thirty-two dollars left in her pocket. It wasn't like it would buy her a room at the local B&B. And at least at the Hole she had a tab that wasn't due until the end of the month. She could get a drink, maybe something to eat, if only free peanuts, and she'd have a warm place to hang out for the day and think about her options and plans. Hell, she knew the night crowd well enough, she'd already spent the night with half the male regulars. Maybe someone would be willing to loan her their couch for a couple of extra nights…maybe more than a couch. And frankly, after being in the hospital for so long she could use a celebration.

She was free! From the hospital, from her father, from her old life! What wasn't there to celebrate? She smiled but shivered as she stood out in the chilly air, then made her way toward the safe location. It was the one place since they'd moved to this little town where she always felt like she was welcome, not as something she wasn't, but just as she was and nothing more. Walking through the door and smelling the stale cigarettes and old bourbon was just as comforting to her as she imagined the smell of fresh tea was to others. It seemed to calm her frayed nerves and eased the tension in her muscles that she hadn't even known had been there until now.

She stepped into the familiar room and went straight to to the bathroom. One of the waitresses was standing in front of the mirror, chewing gum, and applying make-up without a second thought. Damn, luck really was on her side today. It was like the universe was just screaming at her "Sorry, Lacey, please forgive me!" Maybe she should spend a couple of bucks on a lottery ticket the way her day was going she felt like she stood a decent chance at winning! "Could I use some of that?" she asked.

The woman shrugged and moved the bag a little closer to her side of the sink, "help yourself."

Fortunately for her the waitress appeared to be taking her time with the make-up, wasting the boring day shift, where people really didn't need her, in the bathroom. After a moment, she felt put together again and beamed at herself in the mirror. All she needed now was a drink in her hand and the picture would be perfect. She went back to the bar and sat at her favorite seat on the corner, it even felt right. "What're you drinking?" the bartender asked.

She smiled "whiskey," she said the word easily falling off her tongue. The bartender looked her up and down, considering her for a moment. Sadly, it wasn't the kind of considering that would help her. She'd always had the instinct to see right through people, to sense what they were thinking and what they were feeling. And right now he wasn't thinking about how she looked but rather where she came from. Oh God. She'd completely forgotten. She had no ID. Please, for the love of all things Holy, let her look like more than a twenty-one year old virgin skipping out on college classes for something a bit more exciting than _Beowulf_.

"I'm in here all the time," she commented, trying to beat the bartender to the punch "Look hard enough and you'll find that I already have an open tab," she pointed out.

"Good for you," he said sarcastically, filling a glass meant for her, "but I still need a name."

She smiled as he set the glass before her, and glanced into the mirror against the back of the bar. Finally she was happy with the reflection she saw. Now she was complete. Now she was the picture of the person she'd always been, and it was as if that terrible night had never happened. "Lacey," she informed him with happy confidence for the first time since the accident. "My name is Lacey."**  
**


	4. Celebrate Good Times

Fortunately he didn't make her pay. In fact he didn't say anything about the money at all. She could only assume then that he'd found the tab that she had and it was enough to prove that at one time or another she'd been carded and was legal. Not paying was perfectly fine with her. It wasn't like she had a lot of money, only thirty-two dollars left and if she wanted to gamble on finding a "friend" to spend the night with, it might get her a decent lunch. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was hungry. It wasn't close enough to lunch yet, but she was starving. The question was just how hungry was she? Hungry enough to consider losing a few of her precious dollars? No. She wasn't that desperate. Not yet. Instead, she picked at the peanuts in the bowl in front of her, trying to make it casual enough that no one would suspect this was her snack and breakfast.

She sighed as she munched, her mind once again coming to one conclusion: she couldn't stay here forever. She wished she could, after her stay at the hospital the bar was comforting and just overall good for her soul. It wasn't perfect but for a place like Storybrooke this was as good as it got. But unfortunately she wasn't rich, she didn't have her job any more she supposed, surely her father would have called in to work that she was gone, or after all this time they'd figured out she'd quit, and God only knew what had happened to her wallet or where her debit card was. She hadn't bothered to take the purse that they'd brought to her in the hospital, clearly it wasn't hers, for all she knew it was the real Belle's purse. She should probably be worried about that. Her license was a problem, but easily fixed, the credit card belonged to her father so she really didn't care what happened to that, her debit card was the biggest loss but no one knew her pin number so it could be worse. Going to the police station to file a report with Sheriff Graham would have to go on her long list of "Things To-Do" along with going to the bank.

For now…well, her options were limited, but not non-existent. She'd already decided that she couldn't go back to her old job, but there were plenty of jobs left in town. Hell, she could go back to one of those shops she'd been in today and probably find a job. Tomorrow was starting to form before her eyes: police, bank, and jobs. But it was the time between now and then that worried her. She still needed a place to stay. She could stay at the B&B maybe, but that required more money than she had.

She shook her head. She was beautiful, she'd been told that her entire life, and she was friendly enough when she wanted to be. She'd find somewhere to spend the next couple of nights. Even if she needed to come back here every night to find a new place, it wasn't like it would be tragic. If memory served her correctly, her tab wasn't due until the end of the month, that gave her plenty of time to scrap together some money, a job, and with any luck an affordable apartment. One step at a time. Short term goals now. Long term later.

"Haven't seen you here before," she glanced over a couple of seats to find the face that belonged to the voice she'd heard. It was a middle-aged man, not exactly handsome but also not the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Besides, what she liked best was his demeanor. Though it might have sounded like a pick up line, the tone, and one look at his face, told her that he was genuinely curious about her sudden appearance. How could he not be curious? They were the only ones in here that didn't look like they were normally here during the day. It made sense to her.

"I'm not usually in during the day," she explained.

"Ah," he nodded, making a motion for another beer. "Taking a sick day?"

"I should ask you the same thing," she commented picking up on the sound of a stuffy nose.

He shrugged, "allergies."

She nodded and turned back to her peanuts, intending to end the conversation there, but then cast him a curious sideways glance. It wasn't as if there was anything else interesting going on this time of day. "So was that a 'yes' or 'no' on the sick day thing?"

He gave a snort and his lips curved into a smirk. "Not exactly, I just needed a break, this town…" his voice trailed off as he stared into his mug shaking his head in strange disbelief.

"What about it?" she asked suddenly becoming the curious one. Was he yet another person that hated the small town? Did they have that much in common?

He shook his head, like he was still trying to wrap his head around something. "It's just," he sighed like he was still trying to find the words. "I feel like I went to sleep and when I woke up everything had changed overnight. I had a good life, and now I feel like I'm missing a chunk of it. Like I lost something…but can't remember what."

His words had made her heart pound again. She knew that feeling well. Hell, she still knew it! Her mind still couldn't piece together the events that had taken place at the town line perfectly. She felt sorry for the poor guy. But that was no reason to sulk around at the bar. If he was taking a day off then he deserved to escape if only for a few moments. That's what bars were for! And hey, nice as he was, maybe if she made an impression she could spend the night on the couch. Making friends could only help her at the moment. She finished what was left of her drink and pushed herself off the stool. "Well, if you're playing hooky you may as well enjoy it!" she insisted. "You play pool?"

Finally she got a friendly smile out of him, "no, never been very good at it."

"Come on, you can't be _that_ bad!" Suddenly, a brand new idea struck her at his words and she found a new way to make a couple of dollars to add to her current stash while also making friends with the stranger. "Hey," she slapped the bar, making a few of the regular drunks jump at the noise. "We're going to need shots at some point, put it on my tab!" Then she practically dragged the man over to the pool table.

"What's all this about," he asked sounding a little put off by her eagerness. She didn't particularly care. He had talked to her first and besides, though the bar was getting a slow trickle of new visitors, it was a while until anyone from her crowd showed up. She needed something to do. He needed something to take his mind off the town. They were a match made in heaven.

"We are playing pool," she pulled out her one twenty dollar bill and confidently set it on the side, "winner takes all."

The stranger looked between her and the money, considering the offer before him. But, finally smirked, took out his wallet, and laid a twenty of his own on top of hers. "Can't see how this could go wrong for me," he said with a sarcastic laugh before sneezing. He knew he was going to lose before beginning and still was willing to play with her and give up the money. She'd been right. He was a good guy.

"Ah, it's a celebration," she commented as the waitress she'd shared make-up with brought her, their first set of shots, which she promptly swallowed down, ignoring the burn it left in her throat. "We've got to have a bit of fun somehow."

"What're we celebrating?" he asked as he set the drink closer to her, a silent admission that he didn't want it.

"I just got out of the hospital," his eyes widened as she tossed down the second shot.

"You're not on meds are you?!"

She snorted at the friendly concern he exhibited. "What are you, a doctor?"

"No, I, I," he closed his eyes and took a step toward her "I'm the pharmacist, I'm Tom Clark. I run Dark Star Pharmacy," he explained. "If you're on medication you really shouldn't be drinking…"

She held up her hand to silence him. "Relax, Tom," she interrupted. His concern was sweet she supposed, it made for a good friend, but she wasn't looking for a friend just a friendly acquaintance to win a couple twenty's off in pool and maybe crash on a couch. She'd had enough of "sweet" after her experience. "I'm not on drugs," she reassured him as she set up the balls up for a game of eight-ball and muttered "I'm Lacey by the way," as she began the game.

She won. It wasn't much but hell it was twenty more dollars than she'd had before! Tom Clark wasn't lying, he really had no idea how to play the game, but he appeared to be having a good time. In the end he was happy just to make a challenge and watch her try to beat them. He'd set a few dollars on the table and make some request. They started out simple "I bet you two dollars you can't get that ball in that pocket!" but they got harder and crazier as the hour passed "two solid balls in two separate pockets one has to hit that side." She never even blinked and made the shot each and every time, silently counting her current cash flow with each accomplished challenge: fifty-two, fifty-six, sixty, sixty-three, sixty-eight. Finally he set seven dollars on the side "ok, ok," he muttered looking at the table as the waitress dropped off another shot on the corner of her table. "Two solid balls, one has to hit that side and the other has to hit the opposite side before at least one of them goes into that pocket, and you can't move the 8 ball."

She ran over the request in her head, making sure she had it all and then examined the table. Easy. She leaned over and positioned the cue, double checking everything. Then took aim and took the shot. She smiled with pride as she was now the proud own of seventy-five dollars. A room at Granny's it was! And a decent dinner. Hell, maybe she could even get ice cream tonight! She reached over and swallowed down a celebratory shot. "Five bucks says you can't do that again," she laughed at the prospect as she examined the table…yep, it was definitely doable. She leaned down and struck the balls again...and accomplished the challenge. He smiled at her, a look that told her that he'd known all along she'd make it. Maybe she could keep the money, and spend the night on his couch instead. It would be the smart thing to do. It would be-

"Belle!" came a sudden confused voice from across the table. It was a name that she knew too well, and a voice that she wished she didn't. She kept the smile on her face even though her stomach had just dropped into the pit of her stomach. How had he found her so quickly?! It wasn't even lunch yet! And for that matter why did he want to find her? She'd run off! Didn't he get the picture?

She looked him over and offered a smile. What more could she do to get the message through to this guy! "Ah, names Lacey," she corrected as he looked her up and down with stern eyes, like he couldn't believe what had happened to her since he last saw her. Was that really only this morning? A couple of hours ago?

"Her name should be Fast Eddy," Clark commented with a smile from behind him, "She's a hustler, she's hustling me," he joked and took a swallow of beer. She did her best to ignore Mr. Gold and laugh at the joke, a welcome distraction. It wasn't exactly 'hustling' if he knew what she was doing and was continuing to allow it, and it wasn't as if Clark hadn't been having a good time either.

"Do you remember me?" Mr. Gold asked, suddenly bringing her attention back to the man who clearly wasn't catching on to the joke or the fun atmosphere now that more people had come around. God forbid that happened! But how could she be surprised by that. He also hadn't caught on to the fact that she didn't know him. She wouldn't have left the hospital if she did!

She looked him up and down, trying not to let his mood or his actions damper the good time she was having tonight. She was free she knew who she was! And he wasn't going to distract her from that. "Guy who visited me in hospital," she announced proving that she could remember his previous role in her life easily enough. "Sure I do," she didn't have a memory problem anymore, but if he was here, still insisting that she was Belle, then apparently he did. This should be easy though. She hadn't known who she was before to set him straight, but now she did. All he needed was a reminder that she wasn't who he thought she was and hopefully he'd be gone.

"But now I remember who I am," she pointed out quickly averting her eyes back to the pool table again "and that's Lacey. Now, if you'll excuse me you're kinda in my shot," she explained, then moved around the stunned looking Mr. Gold and made another shot as if he wasn't there. Clark followed her lead, nervously casting him glances over her back, but still ignored him as they continued on with their little game. Gold watched for a while longer. Then after a few tense moments shook his head, and stormed off, still looking like he'd just witnessed a terrible accident. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as he disappeared and felt that stab of guilt in her stomach, again, the one he'd only been able to cause in her, and prayed that he'd finally gotten the message. With any luck that was the last time she'd see anything of Mr. Gold.


	5. Other Options

Tom Clark was a decent man. She didn't mention anything about her money situation, but he seemed to have some how put it together on his own. After Mr. Gold left them, they'd continued to make bets on her pool playing until she had over a hundred dollars, enough for a room and a meal. Maybe even a little left over for a safety net. And yet, despite her winnings, he still bought her lunch. It was just an appetizer order of wings, but it tasted so much better than the tasteless hospital mush she'd been eating. And, the fact that it was free, only made it better.

She couldn't figure out why he was being so nice to her, even if he did assume that she didn't have a penny to her name aside from what she'd won off him. Could he sense that she was in some kind of trouble? That she was down on her luck or just suffered a great trauma? Was it just in his nature to take care of wayward souls...or victims of mistaken identity? Or could he sense that she was missing even the smallest part of her memory or life and they were silently bonding over that? Then again, with what he'd shared about how he felt about town, maybe he was just enjoying getting away from his life and feeling normal for a change and forgetting what he felt outside the bar. If that was the case then she was happy to help with that. After all, what were bars for?

But then, after lunch, when the crowd was finally really picking up but still not the group she usually associated with he stood up and called for the bill to their meal. "You're leaving?" she asked, trying not to sound disappointed that she was about to be on her own again. So much for the couch at his place, maybe the B&B was in her future after all.

"Yeah," he said, his stuffy accent prevalent. "I promised I'd meet some people."

"Well," she turned and leaned against the bar, drawing out the words as she tried to figure out how to end their brief but still good encounter. "It's been fun, Tommy!"

He gave her another small fun-uncle smile and pulled something out of his wallet. For a moment, she thought he might give her money, but instead he pulled out a business card turned it over and wrote a phone number on it before handing it to her. "Here," she took it and saw the number for the Dark Star Pharmacy written on one side and what looked like his cell phone number on the other. "In case you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Uh," she stared down at it. How had she managed to find the "sweet" guy again? God, she was like a magnet for that type these days. But after their afternoon, she couldn't bring herself to be angry about it. She genuinely liked Clark, and at least he'd called her Lacey instead of Belle. "Thanks Dad," she said, laughing it off but still pocketing the card for safe keeping. He nodded and reached out to squeeze her shoulder before leaving the bar. She sighed as she was suddenly left to entertain herself yet again.

Well, so far her plan was working, the idea of taking it one moment at a time suited her. She supposed her next step was to think about dinner. It was still hours away, and there wasn't much to think about considering the heft of cash she now had in her pocket. But it would give her something to do. Maybe, what she should be more concerned about, was dying of boredom in the space between now and then. When the bartender came around again she ordered a tequilla shot and a refill on the whiskey. He complied before picking up the rag and resuming his wipe down of the bar. Perfect. She didn't need company, this was all she needed to chase away the loneliness and make her brief solitude more tolerable. It was the rest she would need before her acquaintances came in after dinner.

She went ahead and licked a bit of salt from the back of her hand, drank the shot, and sucked the juice out of the lemon slice as someone sat down next to her in the place Clark had left empty. "Another round for the lady," the stranger ordered as she handed the lemon peel over to the bartender and picked up her unfinished whiskey. She risked a glance over at the man who had taken the seat. "I've had my eye on you for a while," he added as she met her gaze.

"Thank you," she nodded in a chastising voice. She had to fight not to roll her eyes. It wasn't the worst pick up line she'd ever heard. But it certainly wasn't one of her favorites. Although it was telling, if he'd really had his eyes on her for "a while", as he suggested, then the feeling wasn't mutual. She hadn't noticed him milling about and frankly couldn't even remember him coming in, even though she'd always looked up whenever the door opened hoping to see someone she knew. No, she hadn't noticed him at all. He simply hadn't stood out to her even in the slightest.

And looking him over now it was clear why. He was dressed in leather, trying to pull off the classic bad boy look, but it was a little too classic for her tastes. She could see the ruse hidden behind his gaze. He was as much a bad boy as she was the Belle woman. The only classic he was representing tonight was a classic wannabe pretending to look for trouble. She might have been desperate for a place to stay, but with the money and Clark's card in her pocket, she wasn't that desperate. Besides, the night was still young, hell, it hadn't even begun yet, certainly she'd get other, better offers.

"Not my type," she responded quickly, turning her attention back to the bartender and away from the greasy man trying too hard to be something he clearly wasn't.

"Name's Keith," he continued on as if he hadn't heard her. This time she did roll her eyes. If there was one thing worse than cheesy pick-up lines it was useless persistence.

"Good for you," she muttered taking another swallow.

Keith sighed, and for a moment she thought that he might have resigned himself to defeat. Not that she cared. She was certain somewhere there was a girl that went for his particular brand of sleaze; maybe he'd have better luck with her. "So I saw you talking with Gold earlier," he continued "aren't the two of you…"

"We are _not_ together," she stressed becoming more and more irritated that people kept trying to force the two of them together. That had been one of the good thing about Tom Clark, he didn't push the man at her, or mistake her for Belle, or assume anything at all. Frankly that was what she liked about bars like this, people understood to only look at who you wanted to be on the surface. That was why bars existed! To give people a break from their real lives and be someone completely different! Hell, she could take people assuming crap about her, so long as it was about her and not Belle…or Mr. Gold. And what the bloody hell was his first name anyway! She hadn't felt so proper calling someone "Mr." since high school.

"Sorry," he said feigning insult at the verbal attack. "I just wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to fall in with a monster like that."

Seriously? Pretty girl? She hadn't been a girl in a decade and with an outfit like this "pretty" wasn't exactly what she was going for. "I'm a pretty good judge of who to 'fall in with' all on my own, thanks," she commented. "Besides, he's gone now, and unless you are a bottle of tequila, then I don't need you. Or your help." It was blunt, but she hoped it was good enough to get him to leave. She'd rather have the stigma of only attracting sweet men than this pest. And frankly she'd rather "fall in with a monster" than this man…not that Mr. Gold was a monster. She would have picked up on power like that in a heartbeat. But for everything that the town said about him, she hadn't seen a single ounce of the beast they made him out to be in all the time that she'd known him. Pity.

"Do you, uh, need a shoulder to cry on?" Keith asked giving his best impression, she was sure, of a dashing smile. Lord have mercy and spare her from pathetic last ditch efforts like this!

"Not interested."

"Are you sure?" he asked, "I'm told that I am a great…"

"_Not _interested," she repeated harshly, sparing him from the "I'm a great listener" line. Sure, he would be a great listener, if by "listener" he meant that he'd stare at her while she prattled on and on about the woes of her life all the while casting glances at her cleavage and wondering what she looked like naked, then sure, he'd be a great listener. But, she had no "woes" at the moment, those had gone from her when she'd freed herself from the hospital. She didn't need a knight in shining armor, she'd already saved herself, and she certainly didn't need a "good listener" just a drink.

After a pause when she feared Keith was regrouping from her backlash he finally stood up. "My offer stands," he told her "come find me if you change your mind."

"I'll keep that in mind," she responded sarcastically as she watched him go. Change her mind? Not likely. Which was a shame, really, because wannabe or not, he did have a body she could stare at all day.

She took a another drink and reminded herself once more that she wasn't that desperate, but saved the knowledge of Keith in the back of her mind under "Plan-if-all-else-fails". Of course, fortunately for her, there was quite a way to go before she got to that plan. First was to try and explore her other options tonight when more people began to arrive, then call Clark, then the B&B, and if by some mysterious miracle Granny's was full she might bite the bullet and consider Ole-Keith. She'd gotten drunk and gone home with worse to be honest. But that didn't mean that she wasn't going to fight like hell to explore her other options.


	6. The Caged Beast

She was just beginning to breathe a sigh of relief at Keith's departure when the seat next to her was suddenly filled again. Damn, it wasn't even after dinner, yet! How much of this was she going to have to deal with?! She glanced over and couldn't catch the sound of surprise that escaped from her throat.

Mr. Gold…again.

What was he doing back here? She had felt so sure that the bar scene wasn't exactly his thing! But then again she had felt sure that when he'd found her before she had made it clear about who she was and would never see him again! She hadn't wanted to ever see him again. One look at his worn saddened face had the ability to send waves of guilt washing through her and no one in her life had ever made her feel guilty before. Not her father. Not her teachers. So why would this man, who she barely knew, be able to bring that repressed feeling out in her? She didn't like it. She didn't want to feel it! She just wanted him to go away! She wanted to be able to tell him that, but that stupid feeling kept her from being harsh and blatant when she needed to be. Why was it so hard to yell at him? To tell him to go away and never come back? It had been easy enough with Keith!

"Mr. Gold," she looked him over as if she could find some reason for the feeling. But nothing obvious hit her. Was it the cane? His age? No, none of those things. So what then?! What the hell was it about this man? "You're, uh, you're back!" she commented.

"As are you," he pointed out, and she couldn't help but snort at the remark. Apparently he didn't realize that she'd never left.

"Well, what can I say?" she responded "love the ambiance," she explained away with a snort. Being here all day was better than anywhere else in town but if she had it her way she'd be halfway to New York City right now. She'd spend tonight drinking in a bar far classier than this place…not trying to figure out where she was going to stay the night and figuring out how to get rid of people she didn't want to talk to hounding her.

Mr. Gold was silent for a moment after her comment, and she got the feeling that he didn't really know what to expect from her. Frankly she didn't either. What did he want? What more could she say to him? She'd already pointed out that she wasn't his Belle, he should have lost interest in her by now, not continue coming back for her. It was awkward sitting there in the silence with him. Not only was it awkward, it was unsettling. It made her feel like she was right back at the hospital, in the early days after the accident. He would come in and sit, she wouldn't say anything, she just sat there staring at the wall wondering why he was there and what he wanted when she didn't know who he was. Things hadn't changed much between then and now. The only difference was now she knew who she was and knew that she'd been right all along. She had no connection to him. It was all in his head.

Finally she picked up on a tendril of hope for their current situation. Awkward. Discomfort. Could she make him leave the same way she'd made her father regret the decision to move? Could she make their interaction so uncomfortable that he didn't want anything more to do with her and leave her alone? Mr. Gold clearly didn't belong in a place like this, maybe all she needed was to make it even more obvious to him. Maybe all she needed to do was show him how different she really was from the woman he once believed her to be. He could leave without feeling bad and she didn't have to lie or scream at him…she just had to be herself. And figure out a way to make their differences noticable.

In the silence her ears picked up the unfamiliar music coming from the sound system. "What the bloody hell's that!" she asked looking over at the jukebox. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't exactly her favorite, but it certainly wasn't as terrible as she was going making it out to be. But she hoped it would serve its purpose for the current situation. "Let's get some Panama up in here. You, ah, you like Van Halen?" she asked, feeling confident he'd never heard of the group in his life. "You're a Hey Girl man aren't you! Uh?"

She knew that she'd been right as his face fell again. He had no idea what she was talking about, and he finally seemed to be losing interest by the second. He didn't respond to her, but also couldn't bring himself to get up and leave first. She decided to make it easy on him and got up off the stool herself to look at the jukebox. She had no coins, of course, only bills from pool, but that wasn't the purpose of coming over here. As she examined the selections her back was turned, she was giving him the perfect opportunity to leave. He didn't have to say good-bye, he didn't have to make some obscure excuse, he could just go. For heaven sake let the man be gone when she turned around again!

"Uh, Lacey?"

No such luck. Her heart fell at the voice behind her. Couldn't he take a hint? She'd been polite, she'd outright left, she'd turned him down, she'd broken that cup of his, and she'd given him a back door out of their current predicament! What more could she do?! "Yeah?"

"Now, that you're back to your old self," he said attempting a smile, "perhaps we could spend some time together."

She stared at him for a moment, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. She couldn't help it, she hadn't expected him to suggest something like that. Was he really asking her out?! "Like a date?" she clarified, wondering if he even knew the meaning of the word "date."

"Yes, a date," he nodded a little too eagerly. He really wasn't getting the picture, she'd wanted him to take steps away from her not closer! But, frankly, she felt kind of bad for the man and his inability to understand what was happening. Was it the strange guilt that she felt causing that sympathy? She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. She should stop dancing around assumptions and give the man the straight up truth: she wasn't Belle, she wasn't who he thought she was, and he needed to leave! But she just couldn't make the words form on her tongue.

Good God, she wasn't actually attracted to him was she?! It was just the guilt! Right?! She'd almost prefer that to true attraction in this case. He wasn't a bad guy, she could see that. But that was also the problem. He'd been sweet to her while she was in the hospital, but she usually didn't go for sweet.

But then again from what she knew about him "sweet" wasn't the first word many in the town would use to describe Mr. Gold. In fact, Keith had warned her about him, however selfishly, and called him a monster. He surely didn't get that reputation just by being mean to someone one time or not tipping waitresses enough or even by being anti-social. So how did this Mr. Gold in front of her become known for being a monster?

She'd always been able to see right through people, to see their true selves, was that what was happening now? Maybe he wasn't as sweet as he'd seemed. It was a curious thought, was there something else there? Was there some hidden beast kept contained that was calling out to her from confinement? She could get behind that idea, and she was curious to see what exactly was so monstrous about this sweet man. And hell, she'd try anything once! She couldn't believe she was really going to agree to this when only a moment ago she'd been so determined to get rid of him. But she did want to make one thing abundantly clear before she agreed to anything.

"Well, you do know that I'm not this Belle that you're always talking about?"

"Yes, of course," he said with a small shake of his head.

He was lying.

It was obvious. He had stilled noticeably at the name. His mouth said one thing but his face said another, and his eyes wavered between two emotions. It confused her, she usually could sense intentions and emotions with ease, simply by sight. But he was unreadable to her. The closest she could get to describe it was that his eyes were doing a Jekyll and Hyde shift. One minute he felt one emotion and the next he expressed the complete opposite. But he was going back and forth to fast for her to really identify what those emotions were exactly. None of it made sense to her. Why was he trying so hard to convince her to go out with him, if he wasn't even sure he wanted it himself?

"I've heard about you, you know" she burst out, unsure why she felt the need to explore whatever was going on inside this peculiar man more. What could she say? She was curious. "People in town, they're afraid of you, Mr. Gold."

He looked away from her, and although she couldn't read his eyes, she knew she'd hit a nerve of some kind. "Don't let that deter you," he encouraged almost angrily. "Give me a chance, please," he begged. Well that was certainly one thing she never thought he would do: beg. It was strange. It was like he was two people, like he was trying to fight an inner demon of some sort. But why do it around her? Why not do it around the rest of town? Still she'd be lying if she said the prospect didn't excite her on some level. What kind of monster was lurking beneath him? Habit taught her that the badder the boy the more irritated her father would become, but she forgot for a moment that she was never going home, and she didn't have to let that thought control her life any more. But still, the only thing more motivating than revenge, might have been downright curiosity. And she couldn't help it, she was interested as hell about him right now...and, if she was honest with herself, interested about the real Belle that had drawn him to her in the first place. At the very least there was an interesting story there.

"Okay," she muttered "tonight, Granny's" she instructed picking a safe place for the both of them to meet. It may have been a diner run by an old woman, but she knew this wasn't his scene. And La Tandoor was too nice and might only promote the wrong idea he was already having trouble dismissing in his head. Maybe with the right setting she could get him to talk and get an explanation for all of this. Not to mention she did need something to eat. Not hospital food, not peanuts on the bar, or an appetizer. Real food. If she was going to make a date with the elusive and mysterious Mr. Gold she may as well get a free meal out of it and solve her dinner problem. She never thought she'd even think the words but Granny's, for once, was the perfect place to go. "8:00" she muttered finally, before walking away from him and wondering what, if anything, would come of the decision she'd just made.


	7. Plotting

She didn't even bother to look back to see if Mr. Gold left...oh screw it! If she was going to date the man she was at least going to call him Gold in her mind, instead of feeling like a high school kid! Although now that she thought about it, for the man that she'd heard about around town, not the strange gentler one that she was apparently dealing with, she supposed "Mister" suited him better than any first name she could think of. He wasn't a Charles, Michael, or Robert. He was above something fancy like Anthony or Francis. And the thought of calling him something like Fred or Bobby was just funny. Yes, she supposed "Mister" or "Gold" was better than any of those names, and frankly "Gold" suited her just fine...or at least better than Mr. Gold.

No, instead of making sure that _Gold _left, she made her way over to the pool table and began to collect the balls that hadn't moved from the pockets since she and Clark had played earlier. It wouldn't be as much fun by herself, but it was something to do to keep her mind off of whether or not she'd made a good choice for the night. As she reached into the last one she suddenly found another hand joining hers in the small space. The sudden contact made her reach back as she stared at Keith, pulling the last two balls out of the pocket for her, and eyeing her with suspicion. Or maybe just like a hungry wolf. Yeah, he was a "great listener" alright!

"Didn't you just say you and Gold weren't together anymore?"

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the balls out of his hand and sent them rolling across the table. "We never were," she muttered, frustrated to be having this conversation yet again.

"Could have fooled me," he whispered under his breath.

She grabbed a cue and let the end hit the floor with a loud thud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Keith shrugged once again giving her a false look of "sorry I didn't mean to hurt your feelings". But he quite obviously always meant for her to hear the comment, and he wasn't sorry about anything. "The word around town, it always sounded like the two of you were close. Even before."

"Before what?" she asked, hoping at some point he would stop talking in code and start to make actual sense.

"Oh you know before," he shrugged before pulling out the triangle and racking the balls. No she most certainly did not know! It was irritating as hell. But now she wasn't just curious she was worried. Was she missing a memory of some kind? Was there some obvious "before" that he was talking about? Frustrating as it was, she still managed to keep her cool, put on a good poker face, and not show her worry for even a second. Instead she raised her eye brows and gave him an annoyed look, that she hoped was giving him the message to expand on what he was saying. He smiled at her with genuine disbelief, "you know, before all this." He raised his hands and indicated what must have been the bar around them. What was that supposed to mean? Before she'd come into the bar? Before the accident? Before she'd come to Storybrooke? None of that made sense either!

She shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about." This was ridiculous. To begin with she wasn't going to play twenty questions with him and it really didn't matter at all because at no point in time had she ever met Mr. Gold before the accident, and after the accident she wouldn't exactly say she'd been close to him. The only reason she was going out with him was because she was curious about why he'd hung around so long…and, maybe, she felt a little sorry for the old man. Clearly he was searching for something. The something wasn't her, but if she could manage to get up enough courage to maybe let the guy down then she wouldn't be in this predicament. "And I think you're mistaking me for someone else," she leaned down to line up her shot and take it "wouldn't be the first time." The sound of the clanking balls and thud as they fell into their pockets gave her a satisfying feeling.

"No, I'm sure," he went on, picking up a cue for himself and observing the board, "I couldn't forget that day on the road if I tried. But only if I was cursed," he chuckled to himself as she took another shot, but she wasn't paying attention to the game anymore. His words had struck her like a slap in the face.

"On the road? You, you were there that night?"

He peered up at her from his place at the board, "what night?"

"The, the night of the accident," she stuttered, searching his eyes for some recognition. It was the only part of her memory that she still couldn't seem to put together completely. She had the memories leading up to it, and the memories of car lights, and being in the hospital, but the rest she assumed were the hallucinations from the pain meds she'd been on or her injuries. The space between was simply missing aside from the hallucinations, and she was desperate to know what had actually happened that night so she could fill it in. Maybe even hoping that if she knew what happened in might spark her real memories and give her answers on why she'd dreamt up what happened on the road. "The night I got hit by the car at the town line?"

Keith stood up, suddenly looking genuinely shocked by her words. "You crossed the town line?!"

His pronouncement seemed to shock her enough to get control of the situation back and she shrugged at his shock over such a stupid thing. You know you live in a small town when people think you've taken a long trip just by crossing the town line. "I don't know! Maybe, I suppose. I don't really remember, that's why I'm asking," she stated harshly, even for her. She hadn't meant to lose her temper, but she hadn't known how desperate she was for that memory until just now. She shook her head, trying to shake it off as she leaned down and lined up another shot to calm her nerves and distract herself.

"Whatever," she had to get a hold of herself. She'd gotten to the hospital somehow, maybe she'd try asking Gold tonight. After all, even if her vision of him at the line was a lie, he'd certainly found her at the hospital soon enough, maybe he knew what had happened that night. How had Mendell hit her? Who had found them? Why she'd had hallucinations of…? She made her shot. She was being ridiculous and paranoid. She was sure she'd get her answers in time. And, really, she'd only gotten her memory back this morning, maybe with time it would come back to her all on its own. "I'm over it," she lied, crossing to the other side of the table.

"So Gold…"

She straightened her frustration at his insistence growing. "I never even met him before the accident! He thinks I'm some woman named Belle. The only reason I agreed to go out with him is because I felt sorry for him."

"Sorry?" he laughed "For Mr. Gold?" She nodded and returned her attention back to the board. "For the ruthless most powerful man in town? You felt sorry for the man that built his power on blood?"

That was something she hadn't heard. "Blood?" she questioned, "he's violent?"

Keith stared at the table, "only if you're foolish enough to cross him," he muttered before chewing on his tongue. Nervous habit? Or memory of a broken jaw or split lip?

"Well, I'm a pretty good judge of character and I just don't see it."

"Lucky," he muttered, finally coming out of his trance and taking another shot. "You know, I could go with you, make sure you're safe. I was a sheriff in another life."

"Three's a company."

"I could wait outside."

"And what?" she laughed "Protect me from a fearsome beast or Granny's over-praised lasagna?"

"Either one. Or both. Or anything you want."

Wow. That didn't take long. Wannabe or not she had to admit he was a persistent little hunter. "I can take care of myself," she said spotting the last shot of the "game" they were playing, even if they'd never actually stated what the game was. She leaned down, lined it up, and suddenly felt him pressing against her hip.

"Sometimes taking care of yourself isn't all it's cracked up to be," he whispered. Damn! She scratched. How could she not have with a distraction like that! And Keith was smiling again, only this time in triumph, as she stood defeated, still trying to put together what exactly had happened. He walked around the table and put the ball in the pocket. Winner. "If you know what I mean," he winked. He actually winked!

And, yes, for the record, she knew exactly what he meant. But after this conversation she found he didn't bother her nearly as much as he had when she first met the guy. He wasn't brilliant, it was true, and he wasn't exactly the definition of the "bad boy" that she usually preferred. But he was more than an option right now, he was an offer. And unlike the offer she'd gotten from Clark, this one promised more than a couch. With any luck, some fun would come from this one too. Amazing. Sometime in the last two hours he'd gone from Plan D to Plan B. Not a bad progression in that amount of time. Frankly it spoke louder than anything she'd seen of him so far. Although she had to admit, the alcohol in her system, after having nothing in the hospital, was probably working in his favor as well.

"Maybe so," she commented. "But how on earth would I explain the after date standing outside of my real date?"

"Does he even know what a date is?"

She gave a small snort and shook her head, she couldn't defend Gold on that one, not when she'd had the very same thought earlier today. "Well, old doesn't mean blind, and last I checked Granny's was full of windows."

He gave a small chuckle. "Not in the back. And besides sometimes I like to go out that way to have a smoke anyway."

She smiled at the unspoken plan they were hatching. It wasn't as if she expected anything to come out of the meeting with Gold. She'd either see the beast everyone accused him of being or she wouldn't, and instinct told her that it wasn't likely she'd see anything worth her time. All she needed to do was sit down, have a rational discussion about how she was not Belle, thank him for the nice room he'd paid for, and be on her way. He was company for an hour, not for the night. She nodded her head and gave him her best sultry smile.

"I can see the allure in a spot like that."


	8. The Crazy Town

She and Keith played through two more games, only this time they clarified that they were playing eight-ball. And because it was more fun, they placed money on the table. Before she left for her date, she'd earned twenty more dollars. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough that she considered for a moment not getting the job and just taking bets on pool all day! If today was any indication, she could probably make a decent living on it. But bar bets, and a "decent living" for that matter, weren't going to get her to New York City.

As she counted through her small collection, she glanced down and came to a new conclusion: this outfit just wasn't doing it for her anymore. If she was going to go on not one but two dates, and if she wasn't going to spend her money on a room at the B&B she may as well spend it on something she liked that could really call hers, bought and paid for. She thought over the places she'd been to earlier. Neither would work for this. First of all if they suspected she'd stolen something she didn't want to walk back in and offer herself up for Sheriff Graham, he'd know she was guilty in two seconds flat. Second of all she really didn't think they carried anything that she would be looking for tonight. She suspected that Gold wouldn't care what she wore, and she knew that Keith would probably never notice, but she would. And besides, what was the fun of being sexy if you didn't dress the part?!

That left her with one option: the boutique she worked at before the accident. They would have what she was looking for, it was close enough to closing that her boss probably wouldn't be there, and it was right across the street from Granny's. Who would be working tonight? She couldn't think of anyone. Not that it would help, the schedule could have changed five times since she'd last gone to work. It was a risk. If her boss was still there she would waste no time telling her father she was still in town. For God sake, the woman had been trying to get her to set the two of them up since she'd started working there. Fat chance. But would one of the workers call her father? Maybe? It depended on the worker…and what she said to them.

She collected her bounty and after telling the bartender she'd see him later with a coy smile, she walked out into the dying light, heading toward her old haunt. She took a glance through the window when she arrived and sighed with relief. Misty was working tonight. That was perfect. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, and she was one of those people who was always a little too well-behaved for her taste, but she wasn't completely devoted to the manager either. She'd worked with her a couple of times. She could remember…

Despite the cold she stopped dead in her tracks before going into the store. She could remember...nothing. That was strange. She knew she'd worked with Misty, how could they not, they'd been co-workers since before she could remember. But she couldn't think of one time in particular that she had. Probably she should have been worried about that...but then why did she suddenly feel more comfortable? Why did the information seem to set her mind at ease? The missing incident from the town line. That was why. Maybe it wasn't just her memories from that night that weren't there yet. Maybe it really would just take a bit of time to get back to normal. It was a relief, in some strange way. The missing chunks would return one day, all of them, but in the meantime she wasn't going to go home and lay on the couch being the victim. First because she wasn't one for the all day pajamas-and-TV look and second because she didn't have a home with a couch to lie on. Not anymore. And if she wanted a place to sleep for the night, and maybe a little fun with that, she really needed to make this purchase count.

Misty didn't even look up when she entered the store, just went on folding and hanging the dresses for tomorrow, typical "end shift but before closing" behavior. "Don't mind me I'm just going to help myself!" she called heading over to the dresses section as Misty gave an uninterested "'Kay". She sifted through the small cache of dresses available to her. This! This was what she'd been hoping to find earlier! It was a selection she could really dive into. If only she could find the right one.

Too long.

Too heavy.

Too low-cut, even for her.

Not enough color.

She found contenders and threw them over her arm. Once in the dressing room though there was one obvious winner. The red one would have kept her warm but it was just a little too catholic school for her taste. The green one probably would have worked if she was just meeting Keith for the night, and if she knew him a little better, or if they'd been celebrating a six month anniversary or something. But it would probably give Mr. Gold a heart attack, and the last thing she wanted at the end of the day was to end up back in the hospital.

No, blue seemed to be the lucky color of the day. The blue sequins dress she'd found was perfect. Not too fancy for Granny's but not too casual for drinks at the Rabbit Hole later. Longer sleeves to keep her arms warm. Shorter skirt to show off her legs. And while it didn't exactly allow for cleavage it was backless. She'd have to go braless for the night, but that wasn't a problem for her. It was just one less thing to take care of later. She looked herself over in the mirror. The rest of this wasn't hard, a pair of panty hose to keep her legs warm in the cold, a pair of shoes, lose the bracelet, leave the hair, add a coat, and she was good to go. It still wasn't as good as something she might have designed for herself or something that the New York starlets were wearing, but for Storybrooke, Maine it was damn near red carpet attire.

She glanced down at the price tag dangling from her sleeve, snapped it off, and checked the price. Oh. Maybe she'd have to borrow the coat. She folded the clothes she'd stolen earlier and left them on the bench. She wouldn't mourn if she lost them, but considering they were the only thing besides this dress that she owned at the moment she wasn't ready to let them go. She'd leave them here for the night. Her boss didn't come in until later in the day and she could always pick them up before then, and return the coat.

Misty must have been in the back, she was nowhere in sight, so she picked up a bag from the back counter, grabbed a pair of hose and put them on before sliding her clothes into the bag and grabbing the perfect set of blue heels and a warm winter coat. One more glance in the mirror and she was satisfied with the final product. Now she just had to handle Misty. Shouldn't be too hard, no doubt the girl was ready to start closing up and go home anyway. She heard the door open and close and knew that she'd come back in. If she waited too long then she'd shut the computer down. And what was she so afraid of anyway? It was a small town. People were bound to figure out that she was still here. Her father was sure to learn about it one way or another. Hiding in the Rabbit Hole would only get her so far, and if she ever wanted to leave this place behind she would have to take her place in this society first. It was now or never.

She took a deep breath and walked out from behind the rack and toward the register. "Hey," she said with false confidence, "don't stop what you're doing I've got it." Misty finally glanced up at her as she walked behind the counter with her haul. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of her.

"You're…"

"Yeah, I know," she sighed scanning the dress and the price tag for the shoes. "I've been gone for a long time but trust me when I say it's a long story," she prattled on with a small chuckle.

"But, you're…hey you can't do that!" she squeaked as she started punching in the numbers for her employee discount. "You don't work here!"

So she'd been right then. Not that she could blame Nike, her manager. If someone didn't show up to work for weeks at a time she'd probably fire them too. "I figured as much," she muttered placing the cash in the register. "But I've worked here for five years and after everything that's happened the last few weeks the world owes me a little something in return."

"No, you really can't do this!"

"I just did," she smiled, turning her attention to the "borrowed" coat in her hands and finding its tag. She opened the drawer and…no. She was certain she had a seam ripper in here for occasions just like this, times she needed to rip the cloth tag off to keep the plastic price tag in place. She searched the cluttered drawer for it but didn't see it anywhere. What could have happened to that thing?! No one else used it!

"No, really, I don't know what you think you're doing but you're crazy if you think…"

"I am not crazy!" she shouted a little louder than she meant to, her fingers flexing over the drawer so tight it creaked. But she couldn't help it. She never wanted to hear that word used in reference to her ever again…even in jokes! Misty had become quiet after her outburst. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea where she'd been or what she'd been through, but the reprimand served her right. No one should ever be called crazy. Ever.

"Look, Misty," she picked out the small pair of scissors when she couldn't find her seam ripper and cut the cloth tag out of the jackets seam, then shoved it into the pocket of the jacket. She'd sew it back in later, before she returned it, needle and thread would be easy to find. "I've been living in hell for a couple of weeks. Things are finally starting to look up and no one is going to stand in my way. We've all done it, and I wouldn't be back here doing it if I wasn't desperate. I swear this will be the last time I will bother you or anything in the shop. After this, I'm gone. Just hold this stuff for me overnight," she instructed putting the bag under the counter and throwing the coat over her shoulders. "I'll pick it up tomorrow and return this then," she made her way out from behind the counter and made her way quickly toward the door so Misty wouldn't stop her.

"Oh!" she said turning around just before she left. Misty wasn't doing anything. She just stood there with her jaw hanging open, a look of utter disbelief on her face. "Don't tell Nike I was here and if you see my father please don't even mention you saw me! He'll figure out I'm in town eventually but you don't need to be the one to tell him."

"But…I…You…" she stuttered before finally sighing and rubbing her hands over her forehead. "I don't think you understand. I've never seen you…"

"Perfect!" she yelled cutting her off. She just wasn't in the mood to argue or explain anything more than she already had. And now, with that part of her life behind her, she wanted to keep it that way for just a little while longer if not forever. "Just keep practicing that and if anyone asks about me, repeat that line." She smiled and offered a supportive smile to the girl that saw honesty as a virtue. It wouldn't be easy but she imagined that Misty wouldn't have to lie about this visit, not unless anyone actually said "Where's Lacey been?" So she wasn't asking her to lie, just withhold the truth. Two completely different things. And really she wasn't even telling her she couldn't tell the entire world what had just happened, just her father and Nike. Not hard at all.

"Great! Thanks, I owe you one!" she yelled over her shoulder as she left, hurrying away before Misty could argue any more. The sun was down by the time she left and went straight over to Granny's casting Misty one last departing glance through the glass store front. She was still standing there at the register with her mouth open looking like she couldn't believe what had just taken place. It was the strangest look in the world. She knew that she'd worked with her, maybe not often and maybe she couldn't pinpoint the exact memory given her current injury, but she knew that they'd spent time with each other. And yet, the way she was looking at her right now...it was as if Misty had never seen her before in her life.


	9. The Result of Curiosity

She put the conversation she'd had with Misty out of her mind and walked across the street to Granny's diner. She waited out on the patio area that featured picnic tables for people to eat lunch at when it was warm out. But as the temperature wouldn't allow it tonight, she found herself sitting alone and watching the cars pass by, and waiting for Mr. Gold to show up. As it turned out she only had a moment to waste. Gold turned up promptly at 8:00, and with everything that she knew about the man, that really shouldn't have surprised her. She was sure that promptness was one of those things that men like Mr. Gold prided themselves on.

"Lacey," he practically sighed reminding her of a teenage boy that had just met his prom date. "I'm really glad you came." And she honestly didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't think she would have showed up, she wasn't really sure why she had showed up. Why were they doing this to themselves, again? Oh, yes, curiosity. And that feeling she had right now that made her feel like she'd regret it if she stood him up. She'd never felt it about anything before the accident. Maybe it was just because of how nice he'd been to her when she'd been without her life. Maybe if she had dinner then she would feel like she'd paid him a debt and then she could find the courage to kindly end their…well she wouldn't exactly call it a relationship, but what was another word for whatever the hell they were doing together?

They were seated toward the back of the diner, which had its lighting dimmed slightly to make the people of this small town think they were about to get a five star romantic experience. As if. But it was the most popular option in town. And she wouldn't have requested any of the nicer places, she didn't want to get the guys hopes up after all. Just grab a free dinner, thank him for the room, and move on. It was a simple plan. A good plan. Now if only she could just remember that and actually do it!

She glanced up as he suddenly fumbled with the scarce menu the old woman had given him. She laughed, it was cute in an adorable "aw look how nervous he is" kind of way. It was amusing really, she was a no one, how, and why, could the most powerful man in town be brought down to "adorable" around little-ole-her! One more curiosity to add to the collection she was beginning to form in her mind. "You, um, are you nervous Mr. Gold?" she asked.

"No!" he responded quickly "no, of course not. I'm just, uh, deciding what to have," he explained glancing back at the limited menu. Her instinct told her he'd lied, but she couldn't bring herself to call him out on it. There were worse things to lie about than some emotion that would probably only make him blush and ruin the image he must have delicately worked to construct…or so she assumed. So she followed his lead and glanced back down at her own menu, reminding herself once more that beggars couldn't be choosy and it was real food, at the very least. When she got to New York City, then she'd really be dining in style, preferably with five or six paparazzi trying to take a picture of her and a model that served as her boyfriend of the week for the tabloids. That would really make her father stew.

"What the hell happened to you!" someone called breaking the delicate silence in the quiet diner. It was the woman everyone called "Granny" coming over to their table...and talking to her! "You raid the back of Ruby's closets?" she raised her eyebrows completely shocked at how the woman was addressing her. She was so surprised by it she really didn't know what to say or even think about the comment. At first she thought it was another dig about how she dressed, she got that all the time, but then she ran over the statement one more time in her head and picked out the name Ruby. Suddenly it all clicked into place, but she wasn't happy about it. She also thought she was Belle. What was wrong with this town? She'd lived here for a while now and not once had she ever heard or met a woman named Belle?! Why did they all think that she was her all of a sudden. And why couldn't they all see the obvious differences between them. Damn, she really should have asked her father if she had some twin out there before she'd left!

"Perhaps, _Lacey, _and I could order?" Gold insisted, stating her name very clearly. Thank God, at least one person seemed to finally be getting it! Maybe she didn't need to explain she wasn't Belle to him after all. Maybe there was some other reason he'd wanted to take her out. "Um, two burgers, two iced teas, please."

Well, he almost got it. "Actually!" she explained irritated by the fact someone had gone so far as to try and decide her future again, even if it was only what she was going to eat and drink. But she was done living that way. That accident, that fight with her father, was the start of something new, and she wouldn't stand for it any more. "I'm gonna go chicken parm and white wine," she corrected "and make it the bottle!" she added before the old woman could saunter away.

"Alrighty," she heard Granny mutter, before taking the menus and leaving with a "yep" after Gold had thanked her.

The look on his face told her he was shocked by her outburst, and she took a sense of pride in that. If he was going to admit that she wasn't Belle then he'd have to see that there were more differences than just their names. "I've never really been much of a burger girl," she explained easily laughing it off like it was something wrong with her. Her almost polite manner nearly shocked her this time. She should tell him off for ordering for her like that. What was she five?! But that same feeling she'd had before stopped her, why was it that the thought of being mean to him made her like feel like such a terrible human being and turned her into a coward. It was like a terrible puzzle she'd been told to construct but was only given one piece at a time. And whether it was her or Gold it only made her all the more curious about him.

He shrugged at her explanation and his eyes roamed over the table searching for something to talk about. This could be a really long date. "Whatever you want, you should have," he finally settled on.

Right words. He hadn't done so bad on that count. But still, it perplexed her. The more she sat with him, the more she talked to him the more she believed less and less that he was the person the town talked about, the one Keith warned her about. But how many "Mr. Gold's" could there be in this place? Did he know what the people in town thought of him? Of course he did. How could he not?! But she was curious as to what he would he think about those accusations? "You know, you're, you're a classy guy Mr. Gold." She said trying to ease into her suspicions. "This is not what I was expecting from you," she prodded, hoping to get a raise out of him, wondering if she could find the beast that the town feared behind his gaze. Just the smallest glimpse of confirmation that she wasn't wrong would do.

She didn't know why it was important, her father wouldn't catch her with him. But if he was going to find out she was in town, how sweet would it be if he learned she'd been on a date with the man that collected their, _his_, rent. And then there was that small fact. She'd never liked school but she'd always been praised for her ingenuity and intelligence. Reputation aside, he was rich too, and she'd spent a fair amount of money on her outfit. Going home with Keith tonight would only satisfy until the sun rose and then she'd be right back in the same boat tomorrow morning. Making friends with the rich town monster wouldn't be the worst idea she'd ever had. If only she could get him to admit it, or act like it for once. Instead, he only stared at her awkwardly, like he couldn't figure out how to respond to her hidden accusation. But his guilty face did tell her one thing: he knew exactly what she was talking about. But what did she have to do to get him to talk about it, or show it! What was the magic word, here? "Given all the 'stuff' people say about you," she prompted again.

"Oh that," he said, finally finding his words and laughing it off, "yeah, my reputation." As if he didn't know what "stuff" she was talking about it. Everyone said the same things about him. He was smart, he might have been a little socially awkward around her, but she could tell from the looks that he gave her that he was intelligent. More even. He was cunning, like he thought of everything that went on around him fifty times before doing something about it…or not doing something about it. The looks he gave were of someone plotting, planning. But for what?

"What is it you hear?" he asked without curiosity. He didn't need her to tell him, he knew. She could just tell he did, so why he wanted her to say it was beyond her. Unless he had a complex of some kind. He owned the town. He was rich. He was powerful. He had everyone afraid of him. And he needed her to stroke his ego? He wasn't anything like that to her, although she wished he was, at the moment, it would certainly make life a lot more interesting.

"Oh, just that you, you're the most powerful man in town, and you got that power from being ruthless, and that when people cross you they…" she let her voice trail off as she stared at the seemingly harmless man in front of her. "Get hurt," she finished with anticipation, recalling Keith's words that he only got violent if you were unlucky enough to cross him.

He opened his mouth to respond but unfortunately Granny chose that moment to deliver the drinks. Or maybe fortunately, she needed something to get through this evening. "Thank you," she said as the bottle was placed before her. Yes, exactly what she needed. It was the only thing missing from…well…whatever the hell _this _was. She still hadn't decided.

She watched him as he swallowed nervously and reached across for the bottled Granny had set before her. "I am simply," he said as he began pouring the blessed liquid into the cheap glass she'd brought, "a shop owner and procurer of difficult to find objects," he corrected before setting the bottle down. She wasn't an idiot. There was truth to what he'd said, but the words were said with an air of secrecy. They were carefully chosen, and she could hear a dark mysterious tone behind them. He'd meant to shut the conversation down, but she was still waiting for it to begin. Who the hell was Gold really?

Well, to begin with he was a control freak. The bottle hadn't even left his hand before she retrieved it and began to fill her glass to the brim, which he'd neglected to do. She didn't need to be served like a twenty-one year old birthday girl who didn't know how to hold her liquor. And, frankly, though she felt they were getting somewhere, he was moving too slow for her. She didn't want to spend hours finding the real him hiding behind control, she wanted to know who she was really with, and if there was any chance of this going farther. If not, she may as well follow through with her plan, thank him, and leave. She had a good time waiting for her, just as soon as she left this G-rated date behind her.

"People like to believe," he continued as she sat the bottle down again "the worst in me, but Lacey, I, I would rather you believe the best."

And there was the nail in the coffin. Clearly everyone in the town was crazy. They'd been wrong about her...and Belle, for that matter. And they'd been wrong about him. In order to be powerful and ruthless you had to have confidence and believe, even falsely sometimes, that you were powerful and ruthless. He didn't have any of that. Her instinct had never failed her before, but there was a first for everything she supposed.

"Well I, I, just," she couldn't help the stutter as she struggled to find the words she needed "I, I just don't get why people are scared of you. I see a man who wouldn't hurt anyone," she finally explained with mild irritation.

That irritation only grew as he suddenly beamed at her comment. "Thank you Lacey, I really needed to hear that," she took a drink, and began to pray the rest of this endeavor would be over soon, "especially now."

She didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, but frankly, she didn't care. She was losing interest by the second. He wasn't her type and that much was beyond obvious now. But she wasn't his type either. If he wanted the good girl that would listen to his problems and let him order for her and to see him as a brilliant sun against a cloudy sky, he was looking in the wrong place. She had problems too, immediate ones, like where she was going to live and work, and what was going to become of her life. Listening to a sob story wasn't going to accomplish any of that. So much for curiosity...and guilt!

"Well, you know what they say, you can't tell what's in a person's heart until you truly know them." She knew there was something more to him, something darker, but his instinct was to suppress whatever that might have been around her. She didn't want people to hide behind what they should be, she wanted only for them to embrace their true selves. She should know, her father had been doing it to her ever since her mother died. He was no different.

She saw his hand reach out for her and wondered what to do if he wanted to do something like hold her hand. Goodness, get the MPAA out here this was about to go PG! But she didn't want it to go that far though. It would be cruel to lead him on and she still had that instinct to be nice to him for some reason or another. No, she couldn't let this go any further, so she opened her mouth to put a stop to it.

"But," she never got to finish her objections and he never got the opportunity to hold her hand because he tipped over his iced tea right into her lap. Clumsy. Yet another thing she was certain no one would ever have described him as. "Whoa!" she said through a laugh as the cold liquid chilled her leg, "did I say something wrong?" she tried to hide her irritation, but this was the only dress that she owned at the moment, well the only thing she hadn't stolen, at least. This night was getting worse moment by moment.

"No! No, it's just that, I knew someone once who said that exact same thing to me. Gosh, I'm so sorry about your dress," he hurried on.

Gosh? He couldn't even swear right. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. And she needed a break. "A bit of water will take it right out," she said excusing herself for a blessed minute of peace from this bad decision.

"Ok."

"Ok," she confirmed patting him on the back as she left for the bathroom. So much for learning something new or exciting about him or finding out about Belle. All she'd done was confirm her original suspicion. He was sweet, and it didn't get much worse than that.


	10. The Meaning of Fine

Thank God for iced tea made more of water than tea! The more she examined the dress the more she realized that his clumsy spill wasn't going to be a problem. She'd gotten the brownish stain out to the point that it wasn't visible unless she looked really closely at it, and the blue sequins made it difficult to find even then. The fabric was sturdy, a run through the washing machine and it would come out completely without a problem. Thank God it hadn't gotten on the coat she'd taken though. She had no choice but to return it tomorrow morning, and bringing it back with a giant stain wouldn't have been ideal. She would have had to keep it, but Misty had seen her take it and while she thought she'd keep her visit to herself, if something went missing on her watch then she'd flip. The sheriff had caught her too many times to let her off this time if Misty reported her. That was a problem she didn't need. She'd merely trade one cage for another. Not that being here was much different.

She sighed as she leaned against the wall of the quiet space. Today had been…disappointing. True she'd gotten her memories back. But that was about the only good thing that had happened so far. She'd started the day wanting to get away from Mr. Gold, so how exactly did she end up having dinner with him tonight? And why did he treat her so differently from anyone else? He wasn't interesting with her. He wasn't powerful or ruthless. He was just a man, an ordinary man…and she was bored.

But what could she do about it? She'd tried, repeatedly to make him understand, to explain to him, that she wasn't Belle and she wasn't interested in him. But it didn't seem to work. It was a two-way problem. He wasn't really listening and she just wasn't being clear enough. To hell with guilt. What kind of an emotion was it really? What good was it? Every time she was around him she felt it and she didn't understand why, but she knew that it was keeping her from being as frank and blunt with him as she should have been. Oh sure, she could make plans to go out there and thank him for being kind but she knew in her heart of hearts that at the end of the day she wouldn't be able to, just like every other past attempt, she'd fail. She'd tolerate him for the evening, until the end, all the while feeling more and more guilty about leading him on and when they parted she'd simply hope that he wouldn't want another date and tell herself that she'd be more clear next time.

It would be an endless never ending cycle. He'd never make her happy. But she doubted anyone in this town ever would. Not even Keith. Keith! She'd nearly forgotten. Oh, she wasn't stupid, she knew she wasn't going to find any kind of happily ever after with Keith either. But what he promised for the night was a hell of a lot more fun than what was going on here. She opened the door and eyed the nearest clock. Would it be too early? Why bother wondering? If he wasn't around she'd just go back to the bar and find someone else-his loss. Gold's back was to her. There was a door down the hall. She could get out easily enough. She'd have to leave behind her coat, but she could always collect it from the lost and found tomorrow. And frankly she wasn't planning on being cold for very long…with any luck.

And so she crept out the back, feeling suddenly like she was in High school again and she was sneaking out of her father's house. The guilty feeling grew as she watched him sitting there alone, but she turned her face away and hoped that maybe when he realized she'd left, again, he would finally get the idea and stop looking for her. Put them both out of their misery.

The back door opened to a questionable looking wooden porch with stairs. It wasn't the back door, merely the side door. And when she rounded the corner she smiled as her luck appeared to be back on her side again. Keith stood there, his back to her, but she could smell the smoke coming from his breath. "Did you save one for me?" she asked, making him turn quickly around. No, definitely a wannabe. He jumped not with surprise, but fear. Had he been worried that Gold had found him? It might not make sense to her but it might to the rest of the town.

He smiled and pulled a cardboard box of the sticks out of his pocket before pulling one out and wiggling it between his fingers in taunting temptation. "What happened to your date?" he asked as she took a couple of steps forward. She didn't answer. He didn't need to know, if she was here then he should already have figured out what was going on by now. She made a motion to pull the cigarette out of his hand and he jerked it away. "It'll cost you," he smiled menacingly. He was teasing her. But two could play at that game and lucky for her pool was only her second best talent.

"I seem to be low on cash at the moment," she replied, "spent it all on this dress."

His smile grew as he looked her up and down his eyes widening at the sight. At least someone had appreciated the work it took to look presentable. "It's nearly as beautiful as you are. That being the case I'm sure we could work something out."

"Really? And what might that be?"

Keith took a step closer and put his hand on her waist, "I'm sure I can think of something." She didn't have time to say anything, she barely had time to smile before she found his mouth pressed against her. She wouldn't have called it a spectacular head over heels girl meets boy and finds true love kiss…if it weren't for her parents she'd have said that love like that didn't really exist. But it was definitely something she could get lost in. Lacking as it was, it was something that would get her by for the night and let her put all her troubles and worries aside if only she surrendered.

The cigarettes were tossed aside, her arms automatically wound around him and she found them falling against the back wall…which hurt. The damn siding was too pointy to actually get comfortable, which he clearly wanted to do as she felt his hand groping along her thigh and back and his mouth worked at her neck. She pushed a little hoping he would stop and take them back to his place for comforts sake, but her stupid body was already responding to the motions she knew well and she wasn't managing the "stop" part well enough. The only thing she could really hear clearly was the sound of blood rushing through her ears as her heart pounded faster and faster and their breathing came out in short gasps and moans. Comfortable or not, she was ready to give in. It wasn't the best place she'd ever had sex in but it wasn't the worst, she was loathed to admit.

But suddenly she felt cold air as Keith moved away from her. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" yelled the angry voice of Mr. Gold. Her jaw dropped as she took in what had just happened. He hadn't moved, he'd been yanked away violently by Mr. Gold. And she could feel her temper begin to snap. Why was he here?! Why was he ruining this for her?! Could he really not take hint after hint after hint! What the hell was wrong with him that he thought he had the right to interrupt her?!

She looked at Keith, waiting for him to tell the man off and send him away so they could go back to his place. But his eyes only moved between her and Gold looking shaken and nervous. "Wait, you two are here together?"

"Yes!" Gold shouted with a crazed and controlling look in his eyes "we are". She could have screamed. No! She'd walked out! They certainly were not together! Not anymore! Not here! Not at the hospital! Not now! Not ever! And what the hell was Keith talking about? He knew exactly why she was here! He knew she'd been meeting with Gold and frankly this was why he had been out here! What had he said? He could protect her? Yet there he stood cowering like a frightened kitten. Coward!

"I, I," he stuttered for a moment, before backing away from the non-threatening man, who still, despite being clearly angry, can't seem to bring himself to do anything but raise his voice. Fine! Just fine! Disappointment all around! "I didn't know!" Keith finally managed to choke out.

"Go!" Gold shouted at him, "now!"

Keith turned and ran like he was being chased by a hungry lion instead of a very loud mouse. And to top things off, her place to stay for the night ran away with him. She felt her hands curl into fists and had the urge to hit something. Gold might well have been the worst thing to have happened to her since her mother died and she and her father moved to this God forsaken shithole! Ever since he'd turned up in her life it was one thing after another! Hurt after hurt. Missed opportunity after missed opportunity! This was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever experienced!

"You, you alright?" Gold questioned turning back to her and placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she admitted as he gave her an intense look of worry "I, I, I'm, I'm fine," she pointed out, anger seething through her so badly she could barely find the words she needed to form a sentence. She had a memory, she couldn't locate, somewhere of some friend telling her once what "fine" really meant in "girl-language". "Fine-Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional," as much as she hated to admit it, that about summed it up right now just…well, just damn fine!

Gold placed the hand at her back and gave a gentle but still forceful push. It would have been welcomed, if she wasn't so furious at the moment! She didn't want him nearby and she didn't need him to protect her. If it wasn't for him the only protection she would have needed that night came in the form of a small wrapper she could get in the bathroom of the Rabbit Hole. So much for that idea. So much for celebrating being out of the hospital! "Let's get you inside."

Her anger broke and she pushed him away. "No, look I said 'I'm fine!' ok? I'm fine!" She tried to move around him, but he cut her off again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he was unbelievable! Was he really "whoaing" her? Like a horse? She was not a trained pet! She was not a girl who could be ordered for, or needed protecting, or wanted to be treated like a delicate flower! She was young, she wanted to have a good time, to have wild crazy sex whenever the hell she felt like it, drink until dawn, and make a name for herself in this world. He was looking for woman he could settle down with, have two point five children, a dog and cat, and still have dinner on the table every night at 8:00 precisely. That wasn't her. It might have been Belle, but no, definitely not her! And she was done with him!

She was just figuring out how to say all of this when she saw his face fall, matching her own realization as if he had read her mind. "You came out here because you wanted to be with him."

She knew he was smart, he'd simply guessed, but the realization made him look like he was completely broken and her gut gave an involuntary twist again. She didn't know she had it in her to feel this guilty over a face like that. But no! She wasn't going to baby him anymore! It wasn't helping him and it most certainly wasn't helping her. She was pissed, she couldn't help it, and she didn't care this time if she hurt his delicate feelings or felt guilty about it. She'd sacrificed too much for him tonight!

"Yeah," she admitted, trying to find her voice and ignore her conscious.

"But, I don't understand, our date, I thought it was going well!"

"No," she corrected "no, it, it wasn't," he seemed on the brink of tears and she couldn't look at his eyes anymore, otherwise she risked loosing her nerve again. So she picked a spot on his forehead and stared at it, instead. Much safer. And less of a guilt trip.

"What?" His forehead crinkled, and she could only imagine the look of heartbreak he would be sporting if only she would look him in the eye.

"I mean it never was," she explained "the only reason I agreed to go out with you was because I was trying to be nice, but that's not me that's you." Well, she was being blunt at least. Maybe not a hundred percent truthful, she had been curious about him, but now that she saw he wasn't the kind of man she'd expected, there was no need to tell him that she might have been attracted to him if only he acted a certain way, or said certain words, or did certain things. It simply wouldn't be fair to him. And at least this way there would be no doubt that she'd given him a clear message.

"But that's what you liked about me," he said, desperately "the nice part of me, the good part." Now he was trying to tell her what he liked?! She felt her controlled rage suddenly snap back into place. This man couldn't be farther from what she was searching for if they were on opposite ends of the world. And to make it worse, she might not have been a genius but she was smart enough to know what was really happening, what tonight had really been for him.

"This is still about Belle, isn't it?" she accused. His face softened at the name once more. She'd gotten it right. It was the only explanation for why he kept coming back to her over and over again when she clearly had no interest. He hadn't been having dinner with her tonight, he'd been planning on dining with his beloved Belle. She didn't know what happened to her or their relationship, but she was tired of being confused for the woman, and the fact that he'd used her like this, as an imitation to scratch some itch he had, just made her feel cheap and she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry. It was insulting. And she didn't know how much more clear she could be with him! How was it that he didn't see rejection in her words and actions by now!

"Look, Mr. Gold, I'm sorry, she may have loved you," she stated, being sure this time to leave no question about what she was about to say, "but I am not her!" She watched him for a moment as the words finally managed to sink in. He was finally getting the message. And the look on his face was once more too much for her to take. So, without another word, having finally said what she should have all along, she walked off into the night.


	11. A Surprising Turn of Events

She found her way back inside of Granny's and grabbed her coat, then downed the glass of wine she'd left behind before practically running out of the diner, into the cool air. Once outside again, she took a deep breath and starting off down the street. Honestly, she just couldn't bear to be anywhere near the scene of the incident or Mr. Gold. But she didn't make it very far, just ended up leaning against the wall of the pet shelter and staring up at the sky.

Guilt was a bitch. And the only thing making it worse was that she was reminding herself for what seemed like the millionth time today that she had no bloody idea why she had the damn emotion over someone like him! She didn't know why she should be feeling it now anyway. He'd clearly over stepped and she'd dealt with it honestly. And, for as angry as she was she'd been, she'd been pretty damn calm by comparison! There was nothing to feel bad about. She didn't have to stay there and watch the aftermath of her words take the lighthearted man down piece by piece. She wasn't there to pick up the pieces, she was the wrecking ball, and maybe now she could get some peace.

And a life.

But as much as she wanted to move on, she still had a problem. A big one. Now she had no where to stay for the night. Keith had been a disappointment, even if she did run into him there was no way she was going home with that cowardly imbecile. And it was her own damn fault that she'd put too much of her faith in him in the first place! After what she'd spent on the dress, thinking Keith was a safe bet, she no longer had the funds to rent a room from Granny. Damn! She should have listened to her instincts.

Options. She needed options. She'd go back to Gold and ask for help over her dead body, but there had to be someone else...Clark! She had his number, he'd told her that she should call if she ever needed anything! She didn't have a phone but she could always find a payphone. She patted herself down, remembering that she'd put the number in the pocket of her pants…which were now locked behind the counter at Modern Fashions until morning. And he'd been off for the day so it wasn't as if she could go to find him at the pharmacy. That left her only with her father. Her stomach sank at the less than appealing thought.

She could go home. She could apologize for the millionth time knowing she didn't mean the words. Her father would forgive her, knowing he really didn't either. She could find a new job and go back to her old miserable life as if that fight had never happened…NO! No one decided her fate but her. Not anymore! And if she went home there was no reason to believe that what happened before wouldn't happen all over again. She had to stop thinking this way. She'd had a bad day, a bad date, dates really, that was no reason to assume that she was completely out of options!

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall letting the cool air cleanse her mind and chill her skin and sober her mind. There were other options. Not many, but they existed. At the moment there were two she could think of. She could go back to the Rabbit Hole and try again. Maybe find another guy, find someone from her crowd, and get a couch somewhere. Or she could go back to the Hole, get drunk and collapse on the cot they kept in the back room. Embarrassing as it was, it wouldn't be the first time she'd spent the night there. Either way, it looked like she was heading back to the bar.

She stood up, fixed her dress, squared her shoulders, and started walking down the path to the bar she knew only too well. She rounded the corner of the shoe store and nearly heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the sign for the one friendly place she still had left in town. First thing she was going to do was get a shot and try to make the best of this terrible night. Hell, she already had the dress, she may as well….

She stopped in her tracks. There was a strange sound coming from the parking lot. Muffled cries? She smiled with amusement. Yes, that was exactly what she was hearing, and she knew those kind of cries all too well. Someone was getting a beat down. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for a place like The Rabbit Hole. Usually large crowds piled around the two who had the disagreement after the owner insisted they "take it outside". She liked to watch, something about two idiots beating the hell out of each other was entertaining as hell. And the party that followed in the bar afterwards for the victor was always triumphant as the winner took pride in flaunting his power over the rest of them, if only for the night. It was even better when she was the girl on the winners arm.

But things had been fine when she'd left the Rabbit Hole. There had been no brawls brewing, and it was the wrong day of the week for that sort of thing anyway. What had she missed since she'd been gone? Eagerly she followed the noises, hoping that maybe someone in the watching crowd would be there to explain what had happened. Maybe one of them would need someone to have a drink with tonight if the victor didn't.

But as she rounded the corner her eyes met with a shocking sight. There was no crowd. Just two people. There was someone cowering against a car as a man struck repeatedly with a long, thin object. A cane. Mr. Gold! She did a double take and had to make sure she was seeing what she thought. Yes, she was seeing this correctly. Mr. Gold was delivering frenzied blow after blow to the man before him with supernatural strength. She leaned against the wall, overwhelmed with satisfaction as she watched the scene before her unfold. It was exciting. It was triumphant. It was entertaining. It was…perfect! She knew it! She knew he'd been holding out on her! She knew that the entire town couldn't be wrong! Where had this man been tonight only a few minutes ago?!

The scene didn't last long. As if he was able to sense her presence there behind him, he turned and found her standing there. He looked like he'd been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar as he set his cane back in place and once again gained all the composure one would expect of a man who "procured hard to find objects. "Lacey," he muttered, acknowledging her.

She couldn't help but risk a glance behind him, and realized the man cowering was none other than Keith. Was this because of what he'd done to her? Had tall, dark, and handsome really fallen prey to the town pawnbroker?! He'd said he was only violent when people were stupid enough to cross him…it looked like he'd been telling the truth. Now that was her idea of a man. He knew what he wanted and he wasn't afraid to take it! Or so it appeared. Looks could be deceiving. "So it is true then," she stated, suddenly impressed "what they say about you."

He wavered for a moment, debating something in his head before he finally hissed out "yes," even the voice was different. "It's all true," he admitted darkly, as if he simply couldn't hold the secret truth in anymore.

Why was it that he was this way with the rest of town, but was so afraid to show her his true nature? Was that what Belle had wanted? Had she wanted him to behave and it was just instinct? This was the person she wanted to see more of! Not the frail old man dying for the smallest compliment like his saintly Belle would have wanted, but the unchained powerful man before her!

"You, uh," she shook her head and took a step toward him trying to wrap her head around everything she'd seen and heard today. "You are not who I thought you were," she admitted. Well, to be fair, she did suspect he was this way, she just thought that she'd been wrong. And she was happy to admit that she had been. "And I'm glad," she laughed as she thought back to the howls Keith had given as the cane came down each time. "You really are as dark as people say," she observed, more to herself than to him. She liked that, his darkness, the mystery within him. She didn't want to be Mr. Gold's Belle. But Gold's Lacey, the girl on the arm of the most powerful, the richest, man in town…now that had a ring to it. And maybe even a place to stay for the night.

He turned to look at Keith laying there before him and turned back to her, his gentle face disappearing to one of ruthlessness, the face she'd hoped she would see all along, and feared she might not ever have gotten. Perfect. "Darker, dearie," he explained, suddenly confident, he picked up his cane and glanced at the handle. She wouldn't be surprised if it was made of real gold...or lead judging by the way Keith had fallen prey to it. A menacing look passed over his face suddenly as he looked at her. "Much, darker," he concluded.

She gave a small giggle as she stood out of his way, somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted to do, and far be it for her to stop him. She watched as he wound up and then struck again, continuing to strike on Keith again and again as if she hadn't interrupted him. She would never have guessed how strong he was, or that he had it in him to do this. But he didn't stop, not when Keith begged, not when he bled, and not when his head smacked dangerously against the pavement. She couldn't help but feel impressed by the show of power he was displaying. And sure, maybe it had something to do with the alcohol running through her system, but watching the small man take down an idiot like Keith was a major turn on. Maybe not for his wholesome Belle, but for her it was gloriously attractive. Then again, maybe the fact that she'd been right all along was just as much to blame in this equation. Behind the weak nervous man, there was a beast waiting to escape, she'd only uncovered a small part of it. With any luck, she'd free it completely...and she couldn't wait to see what they could do together.


	12. Something To Work With

She was certain that Keith was unconscious. He'd given up screaming after she'd seen him hit his head on the pavement and instead of holding his arms up in self defense his body seemed to have gone limp. Then again for as cowardly as the bastard turned out to be it wouldn't surprise her in the least if he was purposefully "playing dead" in an effort to make it all stop. If that was the case it seemed to work. After a few more swings Gold paused and stared down at the form of the man. She watched him for a moment, wondering what was happening before she realized that Keith really wasn't faking it. He was out cold. And any beating he might offer now wouldn't quite sink in the way that it would if he was awake for it. God, what was that cane made out of? Lead?!

Gold heaved a sigh as he placed the cane back on the ground and shivered. It was an interesting change. She could practically see the beast receding back into the skin of the frail man she'd had dinner with. It was an intriguing sight, but not a welcome one! She couldn't allow that transformation to complete itself! What good would it do for either of them. "You, uh, you feel better?" she gave chuckle that seemed a little evil even to her, but she couldn't help it. Everything she'd just witnessed, everything she'd suspected, it all seemed true, and suddenly she felt…indescribable. She felt a wave of something wash over her that was more powerful than anything she'd felt since she ended up in this town, certainly since she'd ended up in that hospital. She couldn't identify it precisely, but it was certainly far more interesting than the guilt thing had, which seemed to have dissipated in the aftermath of this scene, thank God!

Gold glanced behind him, then back to the crumpled form of Keith laying there on the ground, unmoving. "Yes, actually," he almost sounded genuinely surprised at the fact "much better."

"I imagine it feels good," she leaned against the brick wall and played with the fabric of her coat wall the while assessing him, "finally getting all your rage out."

"Well, now who said that was all of it," he smirked mysteriously as he finally turned to meet her eyes. He was wavering. Part beast part man. which would win out?

"How much rage could one man possibly have?" she muttered more to herself than to him.

"Hundreds of years worth," he commented in an offhand manner. The curiosity that she thought had died at the diner suddenly sparked again somewhere in her chest. She looked him up and down and took in the posture which hadn't quite settled from the violence it emit and suddenly had the feeling that she wasn't the only one doing the assessing. He seemed to be looking her over curiously too. Did that mean that he was finally interested in her? Did he finally see her and not his beloved Belle? Finally! Senseless devotion was humorous to her. But attraction! Now that was something she could deal with. Especially when the attraction was coming from the most powerful man in town, who she'd just witnessed to be far more enticing than any rumor she'd heard since she had moved here.

"You know they say it's not healthy to hold that much emotion inside. Sooner or later it's bound to escape."

"A lesson I won't soon forget," he practically spat back at her in an irritated voice. This Gold she liked. This Gold had a spine and bite. This was the Gold that the town feared and talked about behind his back. She didn't know why he'd been trying so hard to hide it from her, but now that she'd seen it she wanted to see more of it. But that wouldn't happen like this, with the pair of them standing yards apart and dancing around each other and this awkward moment where neither seemed to know what to do next. In her experience the best way to handle awkward moments was to ignore them, crash through their walls, pretend like they didn't exist, and with any luck they might actually disappear altogether when no one was looking. Fortunately for them, bold was something she did quite well.

She pushed herself away from the wall and moved closer to the man before her. His chest was still heaving but she couldn't tell if it was a side effect of the adrenaline he surely still had coursing through his body or the waves of emotion that something like anger could make physical. Either way she knew just the cure for it. "You look like you need a drink," she said looping her arm through his and leading him the short distance into the Rabbit Hole. Thank God it was so close.

He didn't say a word, merely obeyed her touch and walked with her into the bar. While she'd been out, it had filled up with exactly the crowd she'd been waiting to get there all day. The skirts were shorter, the necklines plunging, and leather was the fabric of choice. The atmosphere had changed as well. It had been quiet when she'd been in this morning. The only sound had been that of the jukebox. Now she could hear the crack of the ball's on the pool table, the laughter and coughing from the crowd as they joked and choked on the smoke from their cigars and cigarettes, and the clank of glasses as they rang together in cheers, and were filled and refilled. At least those were the sounds she could hear at first.

It didn't take more than a few moments after they'd stepped into the room that a wave of silence began to wash over the busyness. It was the most astounding, remarkable, thing that she'd ever seen. Every head, every eye, looked up to stare at them. No. Not them. Him. Some looked at him with fear, a couple with reverence, but most of them just gazed at him curiously wondering what he was doing here. He was aware of it. His back straightened, and his eyes went almost instantly from confused to menacing, like he was trying to protect himself behind an impression of some kind. He didn't need to display his power, everyone, including her, could feel it. As wonderful and exciting as it was, it wasn't the reason that they were here, and she knew from experience that the only thing that could make everything that had just happened better than it already was, was if she had a drink in her hand. If they both did.

It didn't take much prodding to get him to move over to the bar. He seemed to let her lead, but once he knew where she wanted to go he took long confident strides, strutting almost like a peacock for those around him. But even this version of Gold, the powerful stronger version, hadn't lost his sense of kindness for her. He offered a hand to help her up into the seat she'd been in earlier and made sure she was comfortable before turning to the man sitting in the placed he had occupied before he'd asked her out. He hit his cane against the legs of the chair and the stranger flinched, looking at him with wide scared eyes, suddenly regreting his choice of seating.

"I don't ask for anything," he told the man "I simply inform people of certain facts," he said with a false smile and flourish of his hand, as if he was putting on a performance. "Here's one you might find interesting: that's my seat," he said through gritted teeth as his demeanor went from entertaining to menacing.

It took the stranger all of one second to nod and hobble away so quickly he sloshed his drink down the front of his shirt, fumbling through a terrible apology as he went. "What, uh, what can I get you?" the bartender managed to ask her without ever taking his suspicious eyes off of the man beside her. She ordered two whiskeys when Gold didn't say anything.

The bartender was the only one that seemed to move, and it was terribly annoying. She usually didn't let gawking eyes bother her, but even she had to admit that the attention on the two of them was mind blowing. She came here because she wanted to escape the obsessive interest of the world, to be away from people's judgment. She didn't get the sense that they were judging her but it certainly wasn't creating the friendly feeling of anonymity that she preferred.

"It's a bar not a bloody zoo!" she called out over the hushed crowd, eyes turned toward her like they were only just now noticing that she was there too. She'd rather have the attention of the jealous gawkers than people looking right passed her. "Back to your stupor, people," she commented with a roll of the eyes. She didn't know what was worse, being hit on or ignored.

Slowly, the quiet bar began to come back to life. It wasn't as loud as it normally was, she thought that the others were merely honoring her request because they were afraid that if she got angry he would. But she was ok with that. The bartender delivered their drinks and she picked the glass up and in one flick of the wrist downed the entire thing. Better. Exactly what she needed to take the stress of the last few hours off her shoulder. She tapped the edge of her glass before the server could leave. "Another. Oh! And give me a shot too," he swallowed nervously, but nodded at her and went to work.

She glanced over at Gold, who was staring at her, mesmerized, again. It was almost like when he'd come in earlier, like he was shocked that she could stand up for herself. He wanted to be prim and proper around her, he wanted to pull out her chairs, order for her, he was shocked when she could raise her voice as effectively as he could exude power, and yet he could beat a man without a second glance. She had no idea what kind of women he'd dated before, what kind of woman this Belle had been, but he was going to have to get used to something completely different. She smiled at him as her order was set down in front of her again. "Don't you just hate the feeling of being a caged animal," she explained.

He picked up his glass at the comment, looked around the room, and sighed, "you have no idea," he whispered so softly she didn't think that he'd meant for her to hear it. But she wasn't about to let a comment like that go to waste.

"So tell me," she insisted, swallowing another mouthful in preparation and leaning forward to hear the tale.

He only shook his head and took a swallow of the amber liquid. Damn! It was happening again. He was retreating. She could see it clearly, just as she had outside. She thought that it would do him good to be around people, that he might relax a bit with the help of the alcohol, and she might be able to really question him about his actions and who he really was. But as the bar went back to normal, only casting them sideways glances, and speaking about them in hushed whispers, the beast was receding again. Back into the fabric of his aged, lined face. Instead of the crowd helping it seemed to only make it worse. It was irritating as hell! What was the secret to this guy? What made him tick? If it wasn't the crowd, then what would bring the powerful man out again?

"You're, uh," she set her drink down after a final swallow and glanced up at him again "you're not really into this kind of thing are you?"

"It's fine," he smiled at her, but it wasn't genuine. She wasn't sure where that came from, how he could be unreadable one moment and then she could get a quick glimpse into what was going on in his head the next, but she knew, at least in this moment, the smile was false.

She smirked, remembering her own recent experience with "being fine". If it was anything like hers, and if that smile was any hint, he was anything but "fine" in this place. But he'd been comfortable outside, when it had just been the two of them, when he'd stared at her with a look in his eyes that she thought might actually have been desire. Yes, being alone with a man was definitely something she could work with, and maybe even open a door to a place to spend the night. "Is there somewhere we can go?" she asked reaching across the wooden table to touch his hand. "Somewhere close by? Somewhere more private than this place?"

He looked down at their hands, then back at her, virtually dumbstruck again. She raised her eyebrows, reminding him that she needed an answer, not a questioning look. He shook his head at her. "My house is…" his voice drifted off, almost sadly, but before she could ask what was wrong with his house he glanced at her again "but there's an apartment that I own, just down the street."

An apartment! An apartment that he owned but didn't live in? That just so happened to be vacant? Now he was speaking her language! "What do you say we get out of here?" he asked with a sly smile.

He polished off his drink and nodded before getting off "his seat" a little too eagerly. That was a "yes". Hell that was a "Hell yes get me out of here!" She followed suit, and was even more pleased when he plopped a few of twenties down on the table and ordered "keep the change" to the bartender. And just like that, there went the tab that she'd racked up. For today, at least. Yes, there could definitely be perks to making friends with Gold. What else they made tonight...she'd just have to find out if there were any perks along that rabbit hole! Once again she threaded her arm through his and watched as the crowd of people parted for them as they made their way out of the bar.

He seemed to visibly relax as the cool clean air touched their skin, even smiled again. With relief maybe? "That was an impressive display of power," she muttered as he guided her down the empty street.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about," but his smirk grew into a smile that betrayed him. He most certainly did know.

"Oh please," she laughed, letting her body fall against him. It was more because she was unsteady on her feet, than trying to be cute, but she managed to make it work in her favor as his arm became ridged, a helpful guide. "I think that man sitting in your chair was about to piss himself," she added with a smile that he didn't seem to notice. She let herself drift closer to him as she swayed again. It must have been the alcohol, she hadn't exactly had any in the hospital, clearly she needed to build up her tolerance again.

"That was all without lifting a finger," he finally gave her a proud, almost impressed, smile and she couldn't help but feel like she'd accomplished something.

"Like I said, it was an impressive display of power. They all give into you without a second thought. It's," she shook her head and thought back on the way the boy had practically run away screaming from him, "impressive," she repeated as they came to a stop in front of the doors to the town library "and attractive."


	13. Explorations

He had an apartment in the library? How…strange. But then again, what wasn't strange about the mysterious Mr. Gold so far? "A library, huh?" she asked looking around the place as he relocked the door, "you, uh, you like to read that much?" she joked, trying to hide a laugh.

He looked at her for a moment, giving her a strange face that she couldn't quite interpret. She felt awkward under that stare, it was like somehow he kept expecting her to grow an extra head or sprout wings. "Books are incredibly informative in my line of work. They are records of infinite knowledge. And they can take you to anywhere you wish to be without ever actually leaving the comfort of your chair."

"That's uh," she didn't really know what to say at his words. What he'd said was almost poetic. It didn't make sense to her. He seemed like two people almost. There was the gentle man that stood before her at the moment and then there was the beast within him that she had seen pummeling Keith and intimidating the people at the bar only a short while ago. She much preferred the latter. "That's fascinating," she concluded sarcastically, trying to cover up her laughter. It was also boring.

"Do you like to read? You can take any book you wish. I think you'll find…"

"Who me?!" she questioned, interrupting him. Here he went again. Sometimes he reminded her a little too much of her father for comfort. Although, it wasn't as if he knew her well enough to know anything about her. It was probably best to squash assumptions like that. "Nah, I was never much of a school girl," she explained "you know, I just always thought there was more to learn in life than what you could read in a book or sitting in a classroom. Right?"

He gave a small smirk and a snort. Did that mean he agreed with her? "Right," he whispered, barely audible. But he glanced down at the cane in his hands and she was positive that she just didn't believe him. He was only humoring her. She didn't know what was going through his head. Frankly she didn't care, just so long as he wasn't thinking this was a mistake. She needed a place to stay the night, and if he decided she wasn't worth it she would have to figure out something else to do that didn't mean going back to her father groveling.

She stepped up to Mr. Gold and placed a hand over the two on his cane before pressing herself closer to him, practically daring him to kiss her. Maybe if he did it would be easier for him. In her experience kissing was a good ice breaker. But he didn't. Just sighed as he stared down at their hands. "Didn't you say you had an apartment we could go to?" she asked her voice deep as she tried her best to be seductive. The fact that she had to try was testament to how much he'd changed since the moment they crossed over the threshold of the library. She usually didn't have to try, it was one of those things that came naturally to her with practice.

But whether it was natural or forced it didn't seem to work as she'd hoped. He still didn't kiss her. Instead he looked up at her with that same wicked smile she'd seen earlier as he'd beat Keith senseless. There was the person she wanted to get to know! "I did say that didn't I?"

He placed a hand at her back and pushed her through the abandoned reading rooms then led her up a set of stairs in the back. They slowed a bit so that he could get up the stairs with whatever was wrong with his leg, but finally they arrived at the landing on a second floor and a door, he released her from his possessive iron grip and pulled out a set of keys.

The door swung open and she boldly walked inside…a very homey looking apartment. She had to fight the urge to laugh. It just didn't seem to fit his personality. "You live here?" she asked with a snort, "it's so…" she glanced around the space, noting the fake fruits in a bowl, a stack of books on the table, and the flowery bed spread she spied through the bedroom "feminine," she concluded. Hell, there was even a rose patterned tea towel over the oven handle! Definitely not what she expected.

"Well, I never really have lived here," he commented in a low voice turning a light on in the kitchen. Ah, that was right. He'd mentioned that he had a house and he just owned the apartment. But still, unless he'd decorated the place himself someone had lived here.

"So, who'd it belong to? An old girlfriend or something?" she questioned, turning back to him as she stepped out of her shoes and tossed the coat onto a neighboring chair. He didn't say anything, just opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as his eyes scanned the room around him reverently. His silence seemed to speak without words. "Oh," she hadn't actually meant it. She meant it to be a joke, but he obviously didn't find it funny. He just looked around the place like it was some sort of shrine to his ex...to Belle. Was that the problem? The reason he'd seemed relaxed ont he street but tensed up as if he was being watched the moment he set foot in the library? Obviously he was still hung up on her. But was that why he seemed to be having problems connecting with her? Who on earth was this girl? She didn't know what happened to her, but it must have been traumatic. It must have been horrible enough to have driven him nearly mad and make him think that she was Belle.

She shook her head and leaned against the breakfast nook. "So, uh, what happened?" she asked gently, "to Belle?" She wanted to find out eventually, if he was going to be hung up on her she may as well get some information from him. Not that she really cared, in all honesty, she was just curious as hell. "Did she die or something?"

He smirked, a sad look on his face, "you could say that."

What was that supposed to mean? A person was either dead or alive there was no in between. Did he mean that she was dead to him somehow? That had to be it. How else would that comment make sense? But what could have happened between the two of them to cause a reaction that deep? Had she run out on him? Had she cheated? "Well, she seems very…" she took another look around the clean apartment taking in the lack of television and radio and the stacks of books…everywhere. "Bland," she stated "no wonder you came looking for something a little more exciting."

She smiled suddenly as she paced around the apartment, a brand new thought coming to mind that make her heart leap with excitement. If this was where he kept his last girlfriend, and she had no home, his mistaking her for Belle might have been the luckiest thing to have happened to her since she had that fight with her father! Belle might be gone, but she wasn't, and an apartment just happened to be exactly what she was in the market for. But it would need some work, something to make it a bit more her and less...Belle.

Her curiosity got the better of her again. She couldn't help it, she snooped. She wanted to find a picture of the former owner, maybe even a drawing, although the way he acted sometimes she wouldn't be surprised to find an oil painting commissioned to make her look like a princess. But there was nothing, no pictures, nothing to tell her that anyone had ever lived here, until she opened the closet doors and found…clothing! There were a couple of suits like he might wear, obviously he'd spent the night in the past, but there was also row after row of skirts, blouses, dresses, everything!. Not just woman's clothing, much to her dismay it was modest clothing, clothing that hid damn near everything! She grabbed one of the hangers that a dress hung from. It was her size but it reached the top of her knees, no cleavage would be shown whatsoever, in fact the only decent amount of skin that would be show was her arms.

"What was she a nun?" she asked with a smirk with a little laugh showing him the blue dress. It wasn't that she hated modesty, she just didn't care what others thought of her. If she wanted to wear short skirts and tight tops that was her problem and anyone who had an issue with that had to deal with it. She wouldn't allow society to make choices for her based on what they thought was "appropriate".

"She was respectable," he argued. Oh, yes, he was certainly still hung up on her. She could hear it in his voice, the way he was defensive about her suggestion. If she had any hope of anything happening between the two of them, she had to get him to get over her. She didn't know what had happened exactly but she'd hurt him, maybe if only because she had gone away. He should be angry…he deserved to be angry.

"No," she pointed out, "my grandmother was respectable and she wore less. This is..."

"I can get you new clothes," he interrupted suddenly "if you need them."

New clothes? Now he was talking her language. It wasn't just a place to stay she was in need of. She also had no clothes. She hadn't exactly taken the time to leave with the, she'd just wanted to get out of her father's house as quickly as possible. But did she need clothes? Did she want them? Yes. But need them? No. She took another glance through the things left in the closet. Everything was her size. All she really needed was what Belle had left in the closet.

"No," she said going through the dresses. "Fashion has always been my thing, you know," she answered seeing him come into the room and watching her. "I can do something with these," she pulled a few out and laid them over the bed. "Shorten a little here," she muttered more to herself than him as she picked a black number out, which to a nun, like its previous owner, might seem like sexy little black dress but wasn't likely to get her anywhere with any man she'd ever met. She rolled the hem of it up a few inches. That was better. Now for the top. It needed something "maybe some scissors, cut the neckline, or make a pattern of some kind. Do you know if there's a sewing kit here somewhere?" she asked. "I don't see a sewing machine, but I can work with just about anything."

"I haven't any idea," he muttered staring down at the dress she'd laid out on the bed. "But I can get you one," she watched him as he picked his eyes up from the garment and met her eyes. Her attempt at making him angry wasn't working. The beast she'd had the brief encounter with was clearly gone. All that she was left with was the sad love-sick puppy she'd had dinner with. Boring.

But seeing as how they were both standing in a vacant bedroom, she could think of a few things that might take his mind off of Belle and her former apartment. If anger didn't work, would lust? "I have a feeling," she snaked her arms around his neck, "that you're a man who could give me just about anything I wanted." She watched him eagerly, hoping he'd picked up on her not so subtle innuendo. But, honestly, she couldn't tell if he had or not.

He merely glanced at her arms and smirked at her, with an expression like he was equally impressed and shocked by her bold action. No doubt Belle had probably been prim and proper as well, but this was the twenty-first century. A woman had the right to take what she wanted and to be just as bold in the bedroom as any man could, a statement she'd been perfecting over the years since she arrived in this drab little town. "Yes," he finally breathed after finding his voice "anything."

She smirked, liking the sound of that one little word. "Anything" was certainly something she could use right about now. But she knew how the world worked, it wasn't something for nothing. Besides, Gold intrigued her, how would he react to something so primal, would it draw the monster within him out again? The idea excited her so much that she couldn't wait any more to find out. She took the smallest step forward and closed the distance between them, brushing her lips against his in the most tempting kiss she could manage.

Gold hesitated for a moment, but then, finally, after she tightened her grip on him and pressed her body against his own, she felt his hands come around her waist as she was swallowed up in a kiss that she hoped was the definition of "passion". There wasn't much of it coming back from his side, but it wasn't completely dead either. It was there, just hidden under layers of opposing emotions. Not precisely what she'd been hoping for but she'd kissed worse. Hell, she'd slept with worse. And he certainly beat Keith. He had potential, and that was really all she needed to work with. Like a fabric before she turned it into a beautiful dress, given enough time she could make a creation of this Mr. Gold before her. Maybe bring out what he was so intent on hiding deep within.

After a while she had to break away from him for air. She seemed to have managed to give into it, but he stood as straight and still as ever, though her own arms had tightened around his neck the arms he'd placed around her waist remained lose, as if he hadn't decided he wanted them there or not. Was it that? Or was he still just insisting that there was nothing to him than a gentle soul? He stared back at her with a different look. Like he was judging her or searching her for something. It was almost hopeful and full of anticipation. Hopeful for what? What on earth was he expecting?

"Have you ever spent the night before?" she asked. His eyes fell at her question. He had. She knew that! She'd seen the damn suits in the closet! So why was he looking at her like that? Like he was disappointed somehow. He made no sense to her at all. But then again, after the last few weeks, the day that she'd had, and the alcohol making its way back into her system, she couldn't expect much to make sense. Fortunately, nothing had to make sense in order for a good time to be had. And there was no reason why they couldn't indulge in a little adult fun. She bit her lip and did her best to move in closer to him, hoping he would also mold against her. "Because," she whispered "I think we should…"

Before she could finish her sentence his hand was suddenly against her neck, his fingers reaching back to touch the base of her skull were she felt a warm sensation begin to spread through her. Suddenly she felt incredibly tired, woozy almost, so much so that she felt her legs slacken and his arms tighten around her before she could fall. The world seemed foggy again, almost like when she'd been in the hospital, and she had the feeling that she was being laid down on the bed. Then, just before her head hit the pillow and she gave into sleep, she could have sworn she heard the lightest voice whisper "I'm sorry, Belle."


	14. What Happened

She woke up with a violent jerk, her heart racing, her lungs out of breath, and her head pounding. The sunlight spilling in through the strange windows only seemed to make her head hurt more. She glanced around and managed to put together that she was alone in the little room, and so she fell back against the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. She must have had a hangover. God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had one of those! How much had she drunk yesterday?! It didn't seem like more than her usual amount. But then again, she hadn't had a drop of alcohol in her system once she'd gone into the hospital. Maybe that was it. Maybe all she really needed to do was build up her tolerance again. In the meantime, she remembered the cure well enough. Hot shower, sleep, and some aspirin. It probably wouldn't take it away completely but it would be a good start. And hell, it hadn't failed her yet!

She opened her eyes and risked a glance at the clock on the bedside. Well, technically it was still morning. Not by much, but it was close enough to count. What exactly had happened last night? Where was she? Her memories were foggy. She could remember getting out of the hospital, the Rabbit Hole, and...Keith. Her eyes rolled instinctively at the memory of the man as she wondered if anyone had found him by the time the pair had left last night. They hadn't exactly turned to check as they walked down Main Street. The pair of them? They? Yes, that was right. She'd been with Gold. He'd beaten her would-be-lover senseless then they'd had a drink together. He'd told her about the apartment he had and they'd gone back there immediately. That was where she was! The apartment, over the library. But here she lay, alone in the bed, clothes intact, bedding still in place, and tucked in with a light blanket as if she was eight! She had a vague memory of standing with him before the bed and kissing him, then being overwhelmingly tired…and then…words? No. It must have been her imagination. It really all got very hazy after that kiss.

But then…she'd dreamed. No. Not dreamed.

She'd remembered. Clearly.

Those damn hallucinations haunted her. She'd dreamed of the echo. Not the sound, just the echo of it, like thunder maybe. It had been raining that night, or so the hallucination in her mind said. It might be a lie for all she knew. After the echo, she could remember falling, being lowered to the ground by someone who turned out to be none other than Gold. It was all so clear that if it wasn't for the woman with the lack of memories and what came next she'd believe that it was truth instead of lies. But it was after her mind told her that he'd caught her and laid her down that it got unrealistic, crazy even, although she would never admit that to anyone. She could remember the argument, and remember not having any idea what it really was about. Why her mind would make up something undecipherable was beyond her. But why she would dream up Mr. Gold, or worse, Mr. Gold holding a ball of fire, was a complete mystery.

She wished that was the strangest that it got, but her mind had told her otherwise. She could also remember the pain and the blood seeping from a wound at her shoulder. A great gaping hole that had felt much worse than it actually looked. But then, she could remember, trying to crawl away from Gold, trying to figure out what was going on around her, why she was there, why he was there, why her shoulder hurt. She could remember huddling herself there in front of a strange car and wishing that she could just disappear as easily as she seemed to have appeared. Still, the Gold in her mind was insistent, he refused to give up as she fought against him. Her shoulder had flexed painfully, she'd cried out, and right before her eyes his hand had glowed purple and the wound, the blood, the pain, all of it, had faded away just like…like magic.

She could feel her heart pound against her chest just at the very thought. It was ridiculous really. Magic! There was no such thing as magic! In fairy tales maybe but the real world?! It wasn't true, any of it! But what pissed her off the most about it, about the hallucinations, about getting her memories back, was the fact that she couldn't fill that night in. She had everything up until the moment she'd been about to cross the town line and had seen the cars head lights, but there was nothing after that. They'd told her she'd been hit by a car, but no one had told her how she'd gotten from the line to the hospital. It irritated her because she had nothing else to believe but a false reality! She couldn't, no, she wouldn't, believe that. There had to be a reasonable explanation for why she had _that_ set of hallucinations.

She'd hit her head hadn't she? Maybe there was nothing to remember. Maybe she'd just been knocked unconscious, and what she was recalling, the hallucinations, maybe they were nothing more than a dream she'd had. Why Mr. Gold though? Why had she dreamt of him when she hadn't even known him? Why had he shown up at the hospital right away? There had to be a logical reason for all of it, she just knew it! But when she tried to focus, the think about it and put two and two together, her head suddenly began to explode all over again. All of this thinking about dreams and hallucinations and time lines and town lines was making her head ache worse. She was going to figure out what happened out there, but first she was going to get rid of the pounding in her skull, and maybe ask Gold how he'd come to the hospital so fast.

Speaking of Gold, if he wasn't by her side, then where was he? She managed to sit up and felt her head spin. She did her best to shield her eyes from the incoming sunlight and stood up. It wasn't the best feeling in the world but at least she was steady on her feet. She could remember swaying last night and thinking that it was the cause of readjusting to the alcohol. Now that she was clear-headed she knew that it wasn't just a guess, it was the truth. She needed to get something to drink. It was unusual for even her to drink this early without cause, but feeling this way when she got up couldn't continue. In her mind that constituted an early morning drink. She wandered out of the room and into the small living area and kitchen. Gold was there, sitting on a stool at the breakfast nook, he was reading a book and drinking…Oh thank God he made coffee! She hurried forward into the area and began going through the cupboards looking for a mug.

"There is tea in the cabinet to your left," he pointed out. Again with the tea! It was last night all over again.

"I don't like tea," she corrected with maybe a little more snap than she meant to show. "Coffee, I need coffee. Where the hell are the mugs?!" she practically shouted.

"Also, in the cabinet to your left," he mumbled. She didn't really care if she sounded rude. Her head was pounding, she needed caffeine, she needed alcohol, and good God did she need an aspirin! But one at a time. She pulled the mug out of the specified cupboard and poured herself some of the black liquid then took a greedy gulp, not caring that it burned her tongue.

She leaned against the counter and couldn't help the relaxed sigh that left her lungs. That small bit of normalcy already had her feeling half way back to her old self. "Can I get you anything to eat?" she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, the book pushed aside, and his hair damp. Apparently he'd already had a shower. God, what time did he get up?! And why?! He'd been up just as late her…later even, since, she assumed, he'd been the one to put her to bed. What the hell was the fun of staying up all night if you couldn't enjoy sleeping through the morning? "There are eggs, muffins…"

She shook her head, cutting him off but making her head pound more. Bad idea. "Aspirin," she begged "is there any around."

He paused for a moment and looked around the room, like it would just be sitting out on the pristine surfaces waiting for him if only he looked hard enough. But then pushed himself up, like he'd just had a thought. "Maybe," he muttered, stalking away from her back toward the bedroom.

She managed to resist shaking her head, but couldn't quite help the eye roll. Mysterious man. Frustrating man! Did he ever say anything that was on his mind or did he really just expect her to jump on every little thought train! She let out a sigh, frustrated that even she could hear the crankiness in her thoughts. Damn. Mornings had always been a bitch. Apparently that hadn't changed. But fortunately it would be easy to get rid of that. She set her coffee down and began opening and closing cabinets, the fridge, drawers even. There had to be something in this tiny apartment.

"Here," she turned abruptly to see him strolling out of the bedroom with a white bottle in his hand. "It was in the bathroom cabinet," he smirked with what looked like tender pride. Obviously something amused him.

"What's so funny?" she asked, snatching it from his hand without bothering to hide her morning temperament.

"Nothing," he answered with a shake of his head as he took his seat again.

It was one word but it pissed her off morn than anything else had so far. This early in the morning she didn't have the tolerance to play games, she just didn't have the patience for anything like this, his thoughts, his smirks, his secrets! In an hour or so? Sure, she'd manage. Now? Hell no! "It doesn't seem like nothing," she snapped inhaling another gulp of coffee with her pills.

"It's where we always kept them in my…" he glanced up at her and stopped mid sentence "never mind, not important." She didn't need him to finish the sentence, it was written on his smug, attached, overly impressed face. His precious Belle had stashed the medicine in the same place he kept them at his house. She had just enough restraint not to roll her eyes at him but only if she turned away and began going through the kitchen again. She needed a drink. And he really needed to get over this girl and move onto something more interesting. Preferably her. "Are you looking for something?" he asked after a moment.

"I need a drink," she stated "please tell me there's _something_ in here."

He let out a sigh that sounded almost frustrated, echoing her own mood. But nevertheless he rose from his chair and hobbled into the spit of a kitchen. He pulled out one of the drawers and revealed three bottles of wine laying side by side. Jackpot. And it wasn't just the kind that Granny served, it was the good stuff. Surprising. She wouldn't have taken this Belle for a drinker! But then she reached around him and pulled one of the bottles out. It wasn't full, but it wasn't empty either. She wasn't a drinker then, just one of _those_ woman. The kind that indulged in a glass every now and then before bed. There was nothing wrong with that, she just had a far different opinion of the stuff. In order to truly enjoy wine, you actually had to consume it. It wasn't about the taste, it was about the feeling. And that required large quantities, not delicate sips.

She'd find a wine glass later, when she was more put together, in the meantime she'd forgo that. It wasn't as if it wasn't all going to end up in the same place eventually, her stomach, and with any luck, her veins. She opened the bottle and took a long pull from it. Better. There was a warmth spreading through her belly just like…last night. It was hard to remember what had happened, but she remembered a warm sensation at the back of her skull, just before it all started to get foggy. She inadvertently reached back and felt the place the feeling had originated. Nothing. At least nothing out of the ordinary.

"Is there a problem?" she glanced up to find Gold staring at her from his seat again. Not that she could blame him, she'd just downed a swallow of alcohol and was now feeling the back of her head like she expected to find a hidden coin slot!

"No of course not," she muttered trying to make it look like she was only rubbing a stiff neck. "So, uh," she set the bottle down and refilled her empty mug before glancing back at him "what happened last night?"

"Don't you remember?" he smirked proudly and almost arrogantly.

"Would I be asking if I did?" It was the right attitude, but not the one that she wanted him to use on her, especially if they had done anything together last night.

He snorted and shook his head slightly, "No, I suppose not. Well, you've nothing to fear, dearie. When we arrived you complained about being dizzy and wanted to lie down. You fell asleep shortly thereafter." She found herself breathing a sigh of relief and not being entirely sure why. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd blacked out and slept with a guy, but for whatever reason she couldn't fathom why it would have bothered her to have done it with Gold.

"So nothing…happened" she clarified.

His proud smirk suddenly faded into a dark angry glare. "There have been many people and situations that I've taken advantage of in my years, but _that _is not one of them," he stated. Before she could make a comment about the odd statement, before she could gawk or take it in, he rose from his chair and moved around her to set his mug in the sink. "I've an errand to run. I'll be back shortly. The apartment is yours until I return," he stated coldly, then without another word, he left. The door slamming slightly in his wake.


	15. Not the Girlfriend Type

She had the entire place to herself. The moment that he left and the quiet settled in she realized just how nice it was. Small and feminine as the apartment was, it was wonderful to have some space and time alone. The area was quite, but pleasant. She took the time to walk aimlessly around, not snooping, but curiously opening drawers and doors, looking under the bed, in the closet, and turning switches on and off. She wasn't sure what exactly she was looking for, options, a game plan, answers, but what she found was another day. Considering her economic status day to day was all she needed.

She double checked the clothes she'd found in the closet last night. They may not have been her style but at least they were her size, and there were a lot of them, and it only added to her assumption that the girl had died, and probably died suddenly. It was the only logical explanation she could come up with! There were numerous reasons why a woman would break up with a man. She didn't know Gold well but she already could name a few traits that bugged her and she was sure would make a woman leave him, but she couldn't think of one reason why she would leave so suddenly that her clothes, her shoes, her belongings, even her underwear were left behind.

Then again that was exactly what she'd done, with her father. She'd never go back there if her life depended on it. But she'd been pushed over the edge, driven away. Was that what had happened with Belle? Had he pushed her away and the comment he'd made was just a wish that she'd died? Was that how she'd hurt him? She shook her head. Even in this short time she could already tell, it just didn't seem like him. He wouldn't speak so lovingly and devotedly about her if he spent his time thinking she was dead to him. No, she had to have died for real somehow.

When she opened the closet by the kitchen she was greeted with another wonderful sight that also solved another of her problems. A stacked washer and dryer. Excellent. She'd put on some of the dead girls clothes, get out of this dress, then maybe buy a sewing kit first thing to make some much needed changes to the forgotten wardrobe! But she wouldn't wear some stranger's underwear. Even if she did look like her and even if they were in her size, it was just too nasty to consider. The bras, sure, after making sure they were thoroughly washed, but underwear. Hell no! She peeled off the garment she'd stolen yesterday and set some other items she found around the space to wash then went to the bathroom, gathered some clean towels and a robe and stepped into the blessedly warm shower.

She may not have known Belle, but she'd say this much about her: the girl could clean. There was a thin layer of dust on the surfaces that told her she'd been gone for a while but not long enough for it to start gathering itself together in bunnies. Other than that, the shower, the kitchen, the entire apartment, all were cleaner than she'd ever kept her room in her entire life. Then again the apartment was far nicer than she would have expected for someone who lived over a public library.

But the more time she spent here the more and more she could see herself living there long term. She couldn't go to New York. Not right way, as she wanted. But she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she could convince him to let her stay. It would certainly be better than trying to score a different couch every night, or going home with a different guy, and stealing clothes. Of course she could offer to pay rent, but she wondered if maybe he'd let her stay for free.

She'd never really considered herself the girlfriend type. She was too indifferent about the world, and she knew that, she was ok with it. But if it meant getting her off the street, and a job that went only toward a fund for New York, she could pull it off. If it was only for a while, she could force herself to make the best of it, but only under certain circumstances...the right circumstances.

Free room and board was worth a lot. But she wasn't going to settle for the way he tried to take control and order for her. However, with any luck, those were adjustments easily made. Not so easily made was how he talked to her, how he was going back and forth between angry, sinister, mystery man, and frail, old, rich man. Although the mystery man scenario worked far better for her, she'd much rather he be angry at the world instead of her...as he clearly had been when he'd stormed out.

She really hadn't meant to make him mad, or to imply that he'd drugged or raped her. Good God why the hell would he jump to that conclusion! She might not have been a perfect little school girl but if there was one thing she prided herself on it was her instincts! If there had been even an inkling of possibility that she thought he would hurt her, she would have sensed it and she wouldn't have come within three miles of him. The fact that she'd allowed him to bring her here should have spoke volumes to him as to how much she trusted him. Why couldn't that be good enough! It was irritating as hell. But it was one more thing that she was certain she could show him-she was trustworthy. Trustworthy enough to get that hidden something that lurked within him to emerge. Was that what could have chased the apartments previous tenant away?

Clean and her head hurting a little less from the warm water, she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, pulled the robe over her shoulders and went to move her laundry into the dryer. She thumbed through the various dresses and skirts hanging up in the closet and finally settled on a black skirt that wasn't terribly long. If she had a kit she would have still hemmed it more than a couple of inches, but the material would be easy enough to roll over her hips. What was the point of having great legs if she didn't show them off?

In the drawer there were tops galore, in multiple colors and shapes. No shape that she particularly cared for, but she could make do with it. A little tuck, a little roll, and it would be much more her instead of ex-girlfriend. There was make-up in the bathroom, which matched her complexion, thank God! From what she'd seen she half expected to find nothing. With a little searching she also managed to find a hair dryer and some accessories that she could use. She tried to be calm, to keep her imagination from getting away from her, but she couldn't help it, the more she explored the more she couldn't help but think that if she inherited this apartment, she'd be in heaven. The only thing lacking here was that sewing kit. If she got that, and maybe some underwear of her own, she'd have it made!

She styled her hair and applied the make-up while she waited for her things to finish drying, then went into the kitchen, picked up the bottle of wine from where she'd left it and took another swallow. She sighed, why anyone would only sip at the good stuff was beyond her. She grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it into the toaster oven, finally feeling awake enough to acknowledge hunger, and let her eyes roam around the sparkling empty space. Her eyes inadvertently fell over the bottle of aspirin that she hadn't put away yet and couldn't help but flashback to that strange moment he'd gotten it for her.

She knew exactly what she thought of this place. She knew exactly what she thought of him. What she didn't know was what to think of him in this place. She didn't particularly want to talk about the girl he'd mistaken her for, the way she saw it she'd only just managed to convince him that she wasn't Belle the last thing she wanted to do was dwell on the subject, but that left her to put the mystery of the life they'd shared together on her own.

He seemed comfortable here and was familiar enough to know the layout of the kitchen, but was unfamiliar with the little things that would come to someone who really lived here-like where the aspirin would be. It was only after a moment of consideration that he'd taken a good guess at its location. How much time had he actually spent over here? Last night she would have thought that he had never come back here that much with his former girlfriend, but now she couldn't help but wonder if he had spent nights here before. Was that why there were suits in the closet? Saintly as this girl sounded they couldn't be anyone elses!

She had also guessed that he didn't have Belle over to his house, based on the reaction he'd had at her suggestion to go home at the bar last night. But she would have had to have been there in order to know where he kept the pill bottle. But then again, maybe it hadn't been as much a matter of knowing and guessing as just a coincidence. Medicine in the medicine cabinet?! What a leap! A person would have to have been born in another world not to know that.

The buzzer on the dryer went off and she jumped, fumbling the wine bottle in her hand, and catching it just before it could shatter and spill it's precious contents on the floor. She shook her head at how unlike herself she was being. After everything that had happened in her life, why was she questioning a lucky break? It was what it was. She should do what she did best, what she'd done her entire life since the moment her mother had died. She should take advantage of the situation that had fallen into her lap. The richest man in town was interested in her. He had a vacant apartment she could use. He was lonely. She was alone in the world. There was no reason they both couldn't prosper in whatever the hell kind of relationship they'd started.

She collected her things and went into the bedroom to change and await his return, whenever that would be, he hadn't exactly said. But as it turned out, she didn't have long to wait. She'd just replaced her underwear when she heard the door open as if her thoughts had summoned him. There was hesitation for a second before he called out her name, where she didn't need to look at him to know that he'd nearly called out "Belle?" instead of "Lacey?" But she ignored it. That wasn't so much a matter of getting over her as a bad habit that needed correcting. At least that's what she told herself.

"Lacey, I have something for you." She wrapped herself back up in the robe at the summons. She usually wasn't so modest but if nothing had happened last night, and if he was back to being humble and gentle around her, there was no need to shock the poor guy. They'd work up to it, and maybe cross that line tonight if she could keep giving him reasons to keep her around. The "poor guy" might question her, but there was no doubt in her mind that the monster liked her. If she could find more of that man, she'd be ok.

When she went out into the small living space she found him standing beside a table and stopped dead. She had only ever been speechless in her life two other times: when her mother had told her she was dying and the moment that the inevitable had happened. But as she took in the sight of him beaming at her and standing next to a familar object she found herself speechless again. A sewing machine! A brand new sewing machine! What the hell was she supposed to say to that?! Her heart pounded with excitement as her eyes roamed over the beautiful contraption. Where did he get that? And how the hell had he gotten it up here so quickly with his disability? Was this his errand? Was this where he'd gone? To buy her a sewing machine?!

He'd listened last night! When she told him that she preferred fashion and needed a sewing kit. No one had ever listened to her before, not since her mother had died, not since she'd moved here. Hell he hadn't just listened and gotten her a kit he'd gone above and beyond and gotten her an entire sewing machine! She didn't know what to say, how to respond, or even what to do! She could feel tears threatening to gather in her eyes but managed to hold them in. She didn't cry. She hadn't cried in years and she certainly wasn't going to let something like a sewing machine, and, she noted, spools of thread and empty bobbins take her down. Calm and cool. She needed to stay calm and cool...though for the first time in a while calm and cool was difficult.

"Did you do this for me?" she managed, swallowing back a few surprised tears. "It's, um," she swallowed and took a few casual steps toward her prize. Beautiful? Radiant? Awesome? She begged her mind to work again! Pick an adjective! Any adjective would do!

"It's all you should need-"

"and then some," she commented looking at the thread, mesmerized. "It's," she struggled to find the words again. How was it possible that she'd gotten this lucky just from running away from home like an angry teenager?! She didn't know what to think of this arrangement, of how they'd met, or of how they felt about each other. She wasn't the girlfriend type, but if it came with perks like this…she certainly could be. "It's perfect," she smiled.**  
**


	16. Power and Class

The sewing machine was perfect! She couldn't wait to try it out, but if she was going to do this she was going to do it right!

She found a pencil and some paper and quickly sketched out a couple of the less hopeless dresses she'd spotted last night: a black one, a green one, and the top and skirt she'd chosen to wear today. She looked them over, felt the fabric, checked the colors of thread she had, and then took her pencil to the drawings she'd created and started altering. She hemmed all the skirts by inches, then went to work on the necklines, doing something a little bit different for each.

On the dark purple sweater she'd chosen for today she created a square neckline, making what was round into sharp corners, and drew little diamond patterns up and down the arms, along the sides to match, and up and down the back and front to reveal skin.

On the green dress she erased the back, lowering it so that it would just barely touch her waist. It was radical but it really gave new meaning to the word backless. She also rid it of its sleeves and planned to use the excess fabric to create straps that turned it into a halter top so it would tie around her neck. And hell while she was at it, she turned it into a plunging neckline. After all, if she was going to go for it she may as well _really_ go for it. It would make a nice dress for a dinner out sometime, not to mention get her plenty of stares from the men she met. It didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

But the black dress she'd found, she had plans for that. She was going to turn Belle's pitiful excuse for a sexy black dress into a real sexy black dress. She would have killed for lace! It was her trademark on all of the little black dresses she'd designed in Australia, thus why her mother had told her when she made it big she needed to call her brand name "LaceyLace". But if there ever was a time to branch out and try new things, it was when materials were running low. If she didn't have lace then she'd make her own version of it. On the drawing she drew little lines through the top, making it look ripped and distressed all along the neckline. She made a note about taking it in a couple of inches so that it wouldn't just hang, it would cling, skin-tight against her. And when she looked at the sketch she couldn't help but be proud of herself. It wouldn't even need that much sewing, just along the hem at the back, and scissors for the tears. And she liked the pattern so much that she applied it to the bottom. Between that and the hem, it would allow her to show a couple more inches of her legs, without being too trashy, and that was just fine for her. Of course none of these designs would be fit for the red carpet, but they were more her and a definite improvement on what they had been.

Drawings done she grabbed one of the dress shirts that he had hung up in the closet, buttoned it over herself, and rolled up the sleeves to work. She'd gotten a little smirk for herself when he dropped and shattered the glass he'd been holding as she pranced out of the room. Men, powerful or not, were all men in the end. A little leg and a beautiful woman in nothing but a thin layer of cloth had the same effect on anyone.

She spent the rest of the afternoon at the machine: cutting, pinning, hemming, sewing. She couldn't have been happier. Yesterday she was homeless and wandering around aimlessly. Today she was sitting in an apartment, with clothes, a sewing machine, and her memories. She was in her element. Well, it wasn't New York, but it was certainly a lot closer than she'd ever imagined she'd be in only twenty-four hours. Who said dreams didn't come true?

He remained silent through the hours she worked. If she hadn't been so absorbed in the task at hand she would have been put off by it, but as it was she let him sit behind her and paid him no attention. She had no idea what he was doing with these hours, but so long as he didn't object to her being there at the machine it was perfectly fine with her. Hell, if he wasn't talking then he wasn't complaining, which made him much better company than her father ever would have been. He would have whined that she should have just gone to work with her time and made money, or picked up a bloody book to study. As if that would have helped her.

Finally, after hours of hard work, she put the scissors she'd been using to make the pattern in the black dress down, and held up the garments that she'd made. She was pleased. No, she was more than that. She was ecstatic! She gathered the clothes up and rushed into the bedroom to spread them out on the bed in the sunlight. Perfect. She rid herself of her work shirt and fit the sweater over her head, she pulled on the hose she'd bought yesterday, and added the skirt. Not perfect. Better than perfect! Precise! Genius! Astounding! Whatever word there was for better than perfect she was wearing it right now.

She strutted out into the room again and threw her arms out wide. "Well, what do you think?"

He looked her over again, but this time managed not to drop anything. "You look-"

"Great right!" she interrupted, unable to hold her opinion in and beaming. She felt so much better than yesterday. Forget retail therapy, she'd take this over that any day! He just continued to stare, like he had all day. In fact, she was beginning to feel like he'd done nothing but stare since they'd left the Rabbit Hole last night, and it was starting to get old. She wanted something different, something more than staring, and she wanted it now! She walked confidently over to the stunned man and forced his hands onto her waist before wrapping her own arms around his neck and pressing herself closer to him. "What do you think?" she whispered.

It took a moment, but he finally let out a breath that he'd been holding in. "I think I should have believed you when you said you could make your own clothes."

Technically, she hadn't said that, but it was close enough and at least it was more than a stare. "Well, I'm glad you see the error of your ways," she paused curious if he would make a move on her. Pressed together like this, if there ever was a moment to do it, now was certainly that moment. She waited a few a few heartbeats. But he did nothing. "You know," she tried again, "I think we should go out tonight. Maybe stop at the Rabbit Hole, show these innocent townsfolk what real class and power looks like."

Finally his face wavered and he offered a pleased smirk. "This is what power and class looks like?"

She smiled right on back, "with the right attitude it does." If he wasn't going to make a move then she would, so she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She offered one kiss, then another, and another. She kept waiting for the kisses to deepen, for him to give in and pull her against him instead of having to push. She kept waiting to be lost within him, but it never happened. She'd hoped they might at least have improved on what they'd had last night, but it was just the same as it had been then, only now it felt more disappointing. But if she'd learned anything over her lifetime it was that kissing was an art form and it could be taught. And the idea of chemistry! Ridiculous! It was practice that made perfect! She pulled away from him and put on her best smile, pretending it was nothing. It was a good thing that she wasn't looking for love in this relationship.

"I'll get my coat and we can…" Suddenly another memory sparked somewhere in the back of her mind. No, not a memory. Just a reminder. A promise. One that she'd forgotten to keep. "Shit!" she burst out dropping her arms and forgetting about the moment. Her coat! In all the excitement she'd nearly forgotten.

"Lacey?" he questioned watching as she glanced around the room and located the place where she'd dropped the garment last night. She was supposed to sew the tag back in and return the damn thing first thing this morning, before Nike found out Misty let her take it, and fired the poor girl. The tag was secondary it could simply have been damaged in a shipment but the coat had to be back for inventory. "Lacey, what's..."

"I have to run over to Modern Fashions," she explained, searching for the shoes she'd bought yesterday, "like, right now!"

"Modern Fashions?"

"It's across the street from Granny's diner-"

"I know where it is, it's down the street from my shop."

Shop? Oh, right, the pawn shop thing. She'd been so focused on him owning the town she had nearly forgotten that he was also the local pawnbroker. It would be handy to remember. But what would have been even handier was to remember to return what she'd borrowed from the store before someone lost their job! Or worse, before Misty ratted her out and called Sheriff Graham on her. How could she have been so stupid! "I used to work there," she explained to him, "I borrowed this coat for last night and promised to return it this morning before Nike got in and could notice." She glanced at the clock as she stepped back into the pumps. "Which would have been hours ago. Dammit!" she whispered harshly.

Nike worked like clockwork, she had to since she had, what seemed like, a million children to take care of. It also made her ridiculously strict, and sometimes she'd even really sworn she had eyes in the back of her head. But, fortunately, if she knew Nike, and she did, in about ten minutes she would go back into her office and not emerge for another hour as she sorted through budgets. It would have been ideal if she'd returned it before then, but so long as she got it back then she would recheck her numbers and chalk it up to an error of some kind. "Come on," she slipped on the coat and grabbed his hand, "we have to go."

She wanted to pull off her shoes and break into a sprint, but Gold acted like it was nothing. He took his sweet time locking up the apartment and then the library, and instead of hurrying down the street he took a nice leisurely stroll. He was the most frustrating man she'd ever known in her life! What part of "right now" hadn't he understood?!

She peered through the windows as she got closer. No Nike, but Kimberly was working the counter. Misty was one thing but Kimberly was a completely different situation. She, her mother, and her sister didn't exactly have the reputation for being angels. Hell, rumor had it her step-sister, Ashley, had gotten so sick of them she'd gotten a job as a maid to get out of that house! She'd never really had much to do with her over the years, Kimberly preferred to work nights, not days. And since this was a shift she had normally worked, she could only guess that Nike had forced Kimberly to work now in order to replace her. She wasn't going to be happy with her and she certainly wouldn't be understanding. Damn.

She took a deep breath, let go of Gold's hand, which she hadn't realized she'd been holding the entire way, and stepped inside the shop. Kimberly barely looked up at her as she shimmied out of the coat. She checked the door to the manager's office. Closed. Perfectly fine with her. "Hey," she practically whispered to Kimberly, "I promised I'd return this, and I'm sorry it's late but it was just one of those night's if you know what I mean." Kimberly looked between her and the coat she'd set on the counter.

"What the…" but she stopped speaking as she suddenly glanced behind her. "Mr. Gold."

"Ms. Tremaine," he muttered authoritatively taking command of the room with two words. "How is your dear mother?"

Kimberly looked like she'd just seen a ghost, and she used it to her advantage as she crept around the counter and located the bag of clothes she'd left behind yesterday. "She's fine. Just fine." It was all still here, the coat was returned, now all she had to do was hope Kimberly didn't notice the fact that she'd forgotten to sew the tag back in, not tell Nike what had happened, Misty would still have a job, and she would be out of a jail cell. How much better could it get?

"And your niece? Growing every day I'd imagine."

"Well," Kimberly swallowed, "a-actually we ha-haven't," but what they hadn't done, or what they were talking about for that matter, she would never figure out because the managers door swung open at that moment with a furious crack and Nike walked out putting on a coat and gloves. Bloody hell just when she was nearly home free...

"Anastasia, I have to run home, one of the kids called and it sounds like they...Mr. Gold!" Nike stopped dead at the sight of the pair of them in the room.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ledershue, I trust business is profitable. At least I hope it is for your sake."

She couldn't help but smirk as she watched the exchange. It was fascinating, just as much as last night had been. Nike could be harsh, she'd never seen her be anything less than in control of every situation, and yet the sight of Gold standing before her and she acted like she wasn't even in the room. This was exactly what she had seen last night in the bar, the part of him that she'd liked. Power. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his words, but the attitude behind them suggested a veiled threat. She liked that, although she very much doubted that he would pick up his cane and begin beating two women like he had with Keith last night.

"It's fine," Nike answered, "I'll have the rent for you on time this month."

"Oh, I've no doubt you will, dear," he responded taking another couple of steps toward her. "But I'm more curious about last month's rent. The rent I generously gave you two more weeks gather."

"I'll have it ready for you next time."

"Now, Dearie," he smiled falsely, coming a bit closer to the woman who was looking more and more nervous with ever step, "that wasn't the agreement we made. If memory serves me correctly you promised you'd have the money three days ago."

"I thought that with you gone and, well, things in town, being what they are-"

"I'd forgotten!" he gave a sinister laugh "Oh, well I never forget a deal, dearie, surely you haven't forgotten that. How are your children?" Nike went whiter than a ghost. "Remind me again how many you have? It must be ten, twelve, fourteen? All to replace-"

"What do you want?" she interrupted with a frightened swallow.

"Well, I would think that would be obvious-"

"I don't have the money on me."

"Surely you have half!"

Nike swallowed and cast her a suspicious look, but not an angry one. She'd never seen her scared before, but she could recognize the look anywhere. Now the question was why was she so scared. Exactly how much power did this man have? And what was she afraid he'd do if she couldn't pay the rent?

"Move Anastasia." Anastasia? That was strange, she could have sworn the girls name was Kimberly. But then again she'd never really worked with her. It was possible she'd mistaken her for someone else. After all, half the town had mistaken her for someone else. Nike moved to the cash register, withdrew, and counted an obscene amount of money, even for only half the payment. However, she supposed he didn't get to be the richest man in town by charging cheap rent. "There," she reached across and handed him the bills "that's half of what we owe you. We can give you the rest the next time we pay rent. Is that all?"

"Not. Quite." He spat through gritted teeth as he tore the money from her grip. She watched as he reached down and picked up the coat that she'd been so desperate to return. "Lacey," he turned and handed her the coat without taking his intimidating eyes off Nike and Kimberly. Anastasia? "That's a good faith payment. I'm certain that you'll have it all in a couple of weeks the next time I stop by."

"I will."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed "then there will be no more need for pleasant chats like this in the future. Am I right Mrs. Ledershue?" She nodded gravely and Gold turned on his heel back to her. With a touch of his hand he led her to the door. "I look forward to the next time we meet. Have a nice day, dear," he added as they left the shop with smiles plastered on both of their faces.

That was incredible, a completely different kind of rush than the power that she had experienced in the past. Brute force, like the type he'd used last night on Keith, that was what she was used to that was her idea of power. But intimidation! She'd underestimated that particular show of power. He hadn't had to lift a finger, hadn't had to raise his voice, he didn't even have to make clear statements, and Nike had just handed over half the cash register! It was impressive. It was inspiring. It was awesome, and great, and glorious. It was enough to make her think that Mr. Gold mistaking her for Belle might have been the best thing that had ever happened to her in her life.

She threaded her arm through his as he guided them down the street. "This," she whispered in his ear, "is precisely what power and class looks like."


	17. Taking an Interest

"Where are we going?" she asked, when she realized they weren't just walking down the street taking a leisurely stroll. At first she thought they were going back to the library, but they never crossed the street to get to it, merely continued right on down the road. He was walking like a man on a mission, a man with a purpose. He was going somewhere specific.

"To my shop," he responded easily. The pawn shop, the one she'd forgotten about earlier. It wasn't far from her former place of employment, practically across the street from the library. She'd walked by it dozens of time but it was strange how she'd never actually been there in all the years since she'd lived here. Well, maybe not strange, she couldn't think of a reason that she would have had to ever go in and buy something, but it was strange how she'd never even really noticed it before.

She took a curious glance through the window as he fumbled to unlock the door. It was anything but modern. Lots of wood, tacky wallpaper, items lining the wall and floor top to bottom and side to side. Good God there were even items in the rafters! Was that a boat?! She would have said that he was a pack rat, but once he finally unlocked the door and she stepped inside, she could see that there was some order to it. Clocks all in one place, pictures in another, one case full of silver, and another filled with jewelry. Busy and cluttered as it was, she could see that it probably looked just like every other pawn shop in the world. Not unique or extraordinary. Just normal. Well, almost normal.

She watched as he made his way across the room and behind the counter, then swung forward a painting and revealed a hidden safe. She moved to try and get a look at just what he was storing in there but she only caught a glimpse of something tan before he quickly placed the money within it and closed it again. Before she could ask questions he'd locked it again and hid it behind the painting once more.

"Isn't that the first place they'd look?" she blurt out. He practically jumped at her voice before he turned to look at her with a confused gaze. She pointed to the picture and offered a knowing smile. "Don't the, um, thief's always look behind the paintings first?" she asked with a little laugh. If she was ever going to rob a house with a hidden safe, that was where she'd look first. That's where the safes on TV were always hidden.

"Well, whoever is brave enough or stupid enough to actually think they can succeed in robbing me soon regrets it. Trust me," he hissed.

She liked the gleam in his eyes at the comment. There was something there, some particular memory that he was recalling. "Is there a story there?" she asked stepping up to the counter and leaning over it slightly, trying to draw him in.

"Let's just say the last person that was foolish enough to steal from me ended up on the wrong end of my cane," he sneered.

Belle? Was he referring to her? No, it couldn't be. He was only violent when provoked and she imagined that he had the restraint not to hurt his girlfriend. Someone else then? "How'd it end?" she asked wondering if maybe he would give her some other hint.

He opened his mouth but quickly closed it as he looked her up and down almost suspiciously. She raised her eye brows at him when he finally glanced up at her, still expecting an answer, but she could see the pleasant memory had died with her last words. "He was very lucky someone was there to stop me," he answered, then turned and walked through a curtain behind the counter.

Someone to stop him? Physically? He walked with a cane, so she imagined that if he was using it to beat someone, as he had Keith, then he wouldn't be that hard to over power. But thinking back on how forcefully he'd pummeled Keith, not giving up when the man was out cold, not giving up until he'd gotten his rage out, she suspected that if he really wanted to do something it would be damn near impossible to stop him. Someone might hold him back, but as soon as they let go he'd get right back at it.

So then who had stopped him and how? Belle? That "good side" of him that he'd let slip she always liked? Was she his only weakness? He didn't seem like the kind that would have many weaknesses, just one powerful one. Strong enough to overrule the power that lay within him.

But, then again, she didn't really know him well. When she thought about it, about everything that had happened between the two of them, even when she was in the hospital, there wasn't much that she knew. He had power and money. Belle was his ex-girlfriend, although God only knew what had really happened to her. He'd left town for a short while, but she had no idea where he'd gone or what he'd done. If he'd told her the truth while she was in the hospital, he'd recently almost died, although she had no idea what had happened to him to cause that. She'd spent more time with him than most of the men she'd slept with in Storybrooke and yet she knew next to nothing about him. Things were good between the two of them, they had the ability to make something better, but if she was going to make that happen she had to start by showing a bit more interest.

A squeaking noise from the place he'd disappeared into drew her attention away from her thoughts and she quickly picked up the bag of clothes she'd dropped and followed the same path that he'd taken, walking behind the curtain, and into a large back room. It was just as cluttered as the front was, but in a different less organized way. The items sitting out on the tables looked half broken, like projects he'd started to repair but given up on. Others were too bulky to fit outside, like a large chest of drawers. And…a cot? Which he was moving? That was the cause of the sounds she'd been hearing, he was rearranging the back room. "Hell of a time to redecorate," she commented to herself, wondering what in the world would motivate him to do that.

She hadn't meant for him to hear her but he glanced up at her words. "Sometimes it's just time for a change," he huffed, pulling off the jacket and laying it over the blankets. "And sometimes my work requires me to move things around." She glanced around the room as he continued to move the items into a different formation. Now that she was looking she noted the small wheels on the bottom of the tables and the way that the cabinets hovered only a fraction of an inch off the ground, suggesting hidden wheels for easy movement. It appeared the cot was the only thing that didn't include the round helpers. She slipped the coat he'd just gotten her off of her shoulders and threw it next to his own before walking over to the cot and giving him help with an extra shove. It slammed across the wall, lighter than she would have thought. He thanked her and moved toward one of the cabinets pushing it into the place the bed had been.

"Can I ask you a question Mr. Gold?" she asked taking a seat on the blankets next to their coats.

"You can ask," he commented still busy with his work. She smirked at the hidden implication to his answer. She could ask, but he might not answer. It would have been irritating if the mysteriousness didn't trigger her curiosity.

"Where are you from?" she would have loved to ask something more complicated. How he made his money. What exactly he did to make the town so afraid of him. What happened to Belle. Why he'd thought she was her in the first place. But based on his comment she figured it might be best to back into it from another angle. Where he was from and how he'd gotten to Storybrooke seemed like a good place to start?

"Here," he answered simply. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be as easy as she thought.

"Here? Your entire life?"

"For as long as I've been on this earth I've lived here," he added, finally looking over the cabinet and appearing happy with the arrangement.

"Do you have any family?" she tried again. Surely that was an easy one. But still he merely gave a mischievous smile and leaned against one of the large work tables sitting in the room. "What's wrong?" Clearly he saw something funny in her questioning, but what it was she couldn't begin to guess.

He shook his head, "you remind me of someone."

"Belle?" she questioned hopefully. She did want information on her doppelgänger but she didn't want to ask it directly, unless he was the one to open that can of worms. That had been one of the goals of her little fishing expedition after all, and now that he had, or she figured he had, she thought it might have been safe . She held her breath and waited for the answer, but the smile disappeared from his face. That seemed to happen every time her name came up. He shut down. The logical thing to do would be to drop the topic all together, but how was she supposed to find out about her if she did that. Like it or not that girl was the reason they'd come together in the first place, and she felt like it just wasn't something that she could give up. And, frankly, how was he going to ever move on if he refused to acknowledge whatever it was that had happened between the two of them. "What happened to her exactly?" she asked in a much more serious tone than she did last night, hoping to get more than just a "you could say she died" out of him.

He sucked in a deep breath and leaned against the table like the conversation was painful to him in some way. "She..." he began, but paused immediately, like he was fighting to hold the words in. "Why are you asking this?" he questioned her instead. But somehow she wasn't completely disappointed, there was something there behind his eyes that she hadn't seen before. It wasn't the powerful man that she'd seen. No, the look belonged to the weak one. She couldn't be sure, but if she'd had to guess, she'd say the look was want. Maybe even desperation. But hidden behind distrust. He wanted to tell her about Belle, he just didn't trust her.

Yet. He didn't trust her, yet.

She could get her answers, if there was any hidden talent she had it was her ability to use her words and body to get people to do and say things to her that they wouldn't normally do or say. The right words. The right gestures, she'd get him to tell her. Somehow, she'd succeed. "I know nothing about you," she informed him carefully, putting a certain amount of sadness and longing in her voice. "Only what we've experienced over these last few weeks. I can't help it, I'm curious," if he bothered looking up he would have seen her give her best impression of a sad pout. But he didn't. He took in her words but stared at the table in front of him like he was conflicted. What on earth was he wrestling with?

She stood up from the bed and strode over to him then boldly reached out to put her hand against his cheek, forcibly turning him to look at her. He gave in at her touch, even closed his eyes and leaned into her hand a bit, as if he was savoring it. "I don't like lies and I don't like secrets," she informed him lightly "I'm an open book Gold, you can ask me anything. I may not be Belle, but if I can give you honesty, then can't I get honesty in return? I'll tell you anything you want, can't I at least know you?"

His eyes snapped open at her words, so quickly she nearly jumped at the small action. He looked at her, searched her eyes, with…hope? Hope again? Why did he keep doing that? What had she said that sparked that? "Perhaps," he whispered "perhaps you just want to learn the monsters weaknesses." He even spoke hopefully with maybe a tad of that desperation she thought she'd seen leaking into his voice.

She smiled, questioning him further wasn't going to get her anywhere right now. What he needed was encouragement, not insulting questions. Questions would come later. She had to earn his trust first. "I'm more interested in the opposite," she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him "I want to learn the monsters strengths." That hopeful look he had broke, and she could have beamed at the sight of the sneering beast peeking through the false mask he bore. Patience, she needed patience to get the answers she sought. She could do that, she wasn't the best at it, admittedly, but she could be if the end of the day held free rent, food, and clothes. Hell, for that, she could throw a little interest into the deal as well.

"I say we spend the night in," she suggested "go back to the apartment, order something for dinner, and talk. About you. About me. Get to know each other a little better."

He smiled at her, and surprisingly enough, she felt his hands at her waist, not lifelessly, not because there was nowhere else to put them, but because he'd wanted to. She could feel them tightening there as he stared back at her. Finally! Small as it was, at least it was a reaction of some kind! "I could cook," he suggested "I may not look it but I'm a fair hand with a skillet."

"Works for me," she could use a little pampering, especially since she was still recovering from everything she'd endured in the past few weeks, and cooking had never really been on her list ton ten favorite things to do. "I could go to The Hole. Buy us a nice bottle of wine."

"I could go to the store, meet you back in your apartment in an hour or so."

She smiled, happier than she'd felt since that fight with her father. Not for dinner. No, that was great and all but it wasn't what made her happy. He'd called the apartment hers. Which was exactly what she wanted to hear. Did this mean he was going to give her the apartment as she'd hoped?! "I have the perfect dress," she added, trying to hide her happiness and stay calm.

The pair put their jackets on and after collecting her stolen, bagged, clothing and locking up the shop they left arm in arm, walking the short distance down the street to the place he told her he'd parked his car. It just so happened that was outside The Rabbit Hole, convenient enough for her. He put money in her hand, which she happily pocketed and a set of keys. "One for the library," he told her pointing to one, "and one for the apartment. I'll meet you in an hour or so."

"I'll buy the wine, get changed, and..." she stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell on the car before her. Her heart pounded loud in her ears and she felt as though she could feel all the color fading from her face. All thoughts fled from her head as she stared at it. Well, all but one thought: she'd seen that car before. That was the car! She knew it was! Black exterior. Red interior. And it wasn't just anywhere she'd seen it last. That was the car from the road! The car she'd cowered behind, confused, as he'd reached out and healed her...or so her hallucinations told her the night she lost her memories.

"Lacey?"

"That," she choked, her mouth suddenly dry as she tried to remember to breathe, "that's your car?!"

"Yes, of course." Yes. But…no. No! No, it couldn't be! That memory hadn't been real. It wasn't real! It had been a hallucination. Just a hallucination. Her mind had made it up. Nothing that had happened on the road that night had _really_ happened! But as she stared at the car her heart hammered in her chest. It wasn't real. Nothing that night had been real.

So how could she hallucinate reality?

* * *

**So did anyone else notice that the back of Gold's shop changes it's floor plan from time to time. Not by a lot, but just enough to bother me and make me want to explain it away somehow. And I figured if something was ever going to fracture Lacey's supposed reality, and we needed something to make her start questioning, it would be Gold's car. Decent? Too much of a leap?**

**Oh so many reviews! I'm so happy ya'll enjoyed the last chapter! Way to get that I threw the old woman in the shoe in there with one of Cinderella's step-sisters. I'm always so happy when people pick up on those little bread crumbs. Thanks to Laurie, Rumbellefan, Deweymay, Teresa, and Grace for your reviews! You are wonderful! I hope you continue to enjoy and review!**


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